Voice
by lacemonster
Summary: Dick and Damian are seeing each other. Worried about the reactions from the rest of the team, particularly Bruce, they decide to keep the relationship a secret until the right moment. But as time progresses and Dick's feelings become deeper, he begins to wonder how long he and Damian are able to keep things hidden. Worse, he begins to fear the other things Damian has left unsaid.


**Warnings** : Explicit sexual content; age difference; scenes with prejudice/racisim; use of the g-slur; inappropriate humor

 **Pairings** : Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne

 **Credits** : This is non-profit, fanmade work. All characters are owned by DC. The fanfiction was created by me, please do not repost without my permission.

 **A/N** : Another story written for DickDami Week. I took the prompt "bilingual" and from the smut challenge I took "praise kink".

I did change some canonical facts. Instead of Dick's dad being Romani, I made both of his parents Romani (I don't think Mary's heritage is every truly mentioned? Though just recently in Rebirth, it's almost implied that she is also Romani).

Also, as a forewarning, I only speak English. I tried to do my best and double-check all of non-English language I used on here, but in the end I am not fluent.

Also, in this story, Damian is about 18-19, and all of the other characters are aged accordingly. The story will start out with a past flashback and then fast forward in to the present timeline for the story. I'll the time shift indicated in italics.

Also, this is mentioned in the warnings, but a huge theme in this story is about different cultures and communication. There are scenes that depict prejudice/racism, as well as the use of a Romani slur. Please keep this in mind before reading the story.

* * *

"Where is he?"

Dick looked up at his mother, who was standing with her hands on her hips. Her back was turned to him but with the tone of her voice, he could already envision the stern look on her face. Dick was starting to wonder where his dad was too—mostly for his sake. Mary was not happy. It was understandable—they had been waiting for awhile. The net was already set up. This was their last day of practice before their big Metropolis show and John was nowhere to be found.

Paulina, one of Haly's aerial silk dancers and Mary's good friend, walked by and must have noticed Mary's disposition. She stopped, smiled a little, and said, "Is your husband practicing his disappearing act again?"

Mary snorted a little. "If anything, Cristina Whats-her-face is trying to show him how she gets split in half."

The joke flew over Dick's head so he didn't quite understand the look Paulina gave his mother. "He would never. He adores you too much. I'm sure he's just late again." Her eyes flickered past Mary. She murmured, "Speak of the devil."

"Sorry I'm late," John called out, running in. Dick stood up, glad to finally get this over with. He was so bored from waiting around. John kissed Mary on the cheek, his usual greeting, which Mary did not respond to—instead standing there stiffly. Paulina flashed John a wry look before walking away to return to her troupe. John watched her go and looked back at Mary, frowning. "What?"

"What else?" Mary said, scowling. "You're late. We can't practice without you."

John looked a bit hopeless. "I know, I'm sorry—"

"What could you have _possibly_ been doing?" Mary said.

A slow smile grew on John's face. "Well, I was going to keep it a surprise, but I might have called in some favors and got us some reservations at _Dupont's_."

Mary's eyes widened. " _Tonight_?"

"Yeah!" John said. But his face slowly fell when he recognized the look that Mary was giving him. He seemed confused. Even Dick had to glance back and forth between his parents, noticing the growing tension in the air. "I thought you liked that place."

"John, we have to practice tonight. The show is _tomorrow_ ," she said. "We don't have time to be gallivanting around Metropolis."

John frowned a little. "Mary, we practice and do shows _everyday_. I don't think one night off is going to ruin us." Sensing Mary's disapproval, John smiled and added, "Look, the reservation isn't until later anyways. We can still practice and go."

"I'd have to shower and get dressed. Then we'd have to take a cab or something all the way out there. Haly always takes the troupes out to dinner after the shows anyways—why can't you just wait?" Mary said.

"Because then it's the troupes. It's not _us_."

"Who's going to watch Dick?" Mary said, crossing her arms.

"I'm sure Paulina or one of our dozens of friends would be happy to watch him. It'll be fine," John said. He looked at Dick. "Right, buddy?"

Suddenly both John and Mary's eyes were on him, waiting on his approval or disapproval. Dick raised his eyebrows and just took a step back. He wasn't getting involved.

John's face fell slightly. He glanced back at Mary, whose arms were crossed.

"Why couldn't you have just asked me?" Mary said. John shrugged a little.

"Because you would have said no," John said, quietly. Mary shifted in place, looking uncomfortable. "Okay, look, don't worry about it. We don't have to go. I can cancel, it's no problem."

Mary shook her head disapprovingly but didn't say another word. Dick recognized the look. Whenever his mother was angry, she yelled—but when she was _really_ angry, she got quiet. And at that moment, she was quiet. She turned in the direction of the net, ready to take off. John gave an exasperated sigh.

"You don't always have to be so cold," he snapped.

" _Cold_?" Mary repeated, looking in his direction. Her eyes narrowed. John seemed to have realized what he said, a look of regret passing over his face.

"I was just trying to do something nice," he said.

"John, I don't want you to be _nice_. I want you to _be here_ ," she said sharply.

"I'm sorry," John said after a moment.

"Then act like it!" she said, exasperated. She turned in Dick's direction, holding out her hand. Careful not to look at his father, Dick hurried to take it. Mary led the way to the net, her steps hurried.

* * *

"Dick," came a hushed whisper.

Dick stopped and looked around, trying to spot where the voice was coming from.

"Dad?" he said. He finally found his father waving from his place on a backstage scaffold. John gestured for him to join him. Dick eyed him curiously but climbed up anyways, taking a spot next to him. "Dad, what are you doing up here? I thought performers weren't supposed to be on these."

"We're not. But it's okay, this isn't going to take long."

"Are we going to get in trouble?"

"No, of course not. If they get angry, we'll just apologize."

"Like with Mom?" Dick suggested innocently. John's face fell.

"Ouch, son. Ouch." Dick blinked at him, confused, but John just sighed and said, "Actually, that's what I wanted to talk about. Your mom is going to the store. I want you to go with her and keep her out as long as you can."

Dick still wasn't entirely sure if he believed that they weren't going to run into trouble. "But… _why_?"

"It'll make sense later. I promise," he said. "Just make sure to give me at least, like, an hour. I'm going to surprise your mom."

Dick frowned. "But mom _hates_ surprises."

"She'll like this one. Trust me. Now go, before she leaves," John said.

"Dad?"

"What?"

"Why are you telling me this here? Why not just down on the ground?"

"Because it's more incognito."

"More _what_?"

"Dick, just go."

* * *

Mary seemed confused when Dick insisted on going to the grocery store with her. It didn't make sense for him to go, considering he hated grocery shopping. But she allowed him to tag along nonetheless. Dick kept an eye on his dinosaur watch, mindful of the time that his father told him that they should be back.

The supermarket they went to was huge. Mary looked around, dark brows furrowed slightly. One of the hard parts of travelling on the road was that nothing was familiar. Mary sighed a little and grabbed Dick's hand—Dick normally felt embarrassed and hated it when they held hands in public but this time, he allowed it. He didn't want to get lost either.

Dick tried his best to drag out time as long as possible—but it was hard to get away from his mother when she was keeping a hawk's eye on him. He tried distracting her by talking too much but she didn't seem to be in the mood for answering many of his questions.

Check-out proceeded faster than he expected.

The cashier had rang up their total and Mary went to look in her purse.

She frowned, shuffling through it. She set it on the counter to look, a line of people behind her. Dick looked up at her confused.

"John, did you take the checkbook out of my purse _again_?" Mary muttered to herself, exasperated. The cashier, sensing the growing tension in the line of waiting people spoke up.

"We also accept card and cash."

"I know but my joint checkbook—"

"If you don't have money, then get out of line," the person behind them in line spoke up. Mary immediately flashed him a look.

"I have money," she said insistently, sounding offended.

"Then what's the hold up?"

Mary clenched her jaw and pulled out her wallet, paying with her card. When she got her receipt, she yanked her bags off the counter and stormed out. Dick followed her closely.

"Stupid _gaje._ Why is everyone in Metropolis so stuck-up?" she hissed under her breath once they were out of the store. She finally calmed down a little, glancing back at Dick. Dick was looking at his watch, worried. "You okay?"

Dick looked up at her, hoping she didn't notice him eyeing the time. He was paying attention to her words—he was just more distracted by his father's assignment. He thought about what she had said. _Gaje_. He had heard the word before but he didn't fully understand.

"What is that word?" he asked, changing the subject. Mary looked at him almost as if she didn't realize she had said it out loud. " _Gaje_. What does it mean?"

"It's just something your grandparents used to say. It's a word for non-Roma. It's not… it's not an entirely nice word to say." Dick stared up at his mother curiously. His mother rarely used bad words, nor mentioned his late grandparents. To hear her speak of both was a bit perplexing. She sighed a little, a bit of guilt in her eyes. "Sorry, Dick. I'm not too pleased right now."

"Can you say other things?" Dick asked.

"Some. I'm not fluent. Your grandparents didn't want to teach me but I picked up on some things, listening to them."

At that, Dick was confused. "Why didn't they want to teach you?"

"Because we're in America. English is all you need to know."

"Could you teach me?"

At that, Mary made a little noise. "And who will you speak it to?"

"I don't know. Everyone."

"Sure," she said, laughing a little but her voice sounded hollow. "And then you can do somersaults in the streets for money and they can call you _gypsy_."

That was a word that Dick had heard many times, particularly from the older circus members. He didn't understand why his mother said it with such resentment. When Mary noticed her son's lost expression, she cleared her throat, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, Dick. What would you like to know?"

"How do you say 'mom'?"

" _Dai_."

Dick looked around, trying to find something else. He noticed a drinking fountain. "What about water?"

" _Pani_."

This went on for awhile as they walked—Dick trying to find words for his mother to repeat.

"How do you say 'I love you'?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said after a moment. At that, Dick was a little disappointed.

"Did you forget?" he asked.

"No, I just never heard it said before."

At that, Dick was saddened. "They never said it to you?"

"No. But that doesn't mean they didn't love me," Mary said, looking at him. Dick was still lost and confused. Mary sighed, not sure of how to explain it. "Love isn't something you say, Dick. It's something you do."

Dick wasn't sure if he understood but he nodded.

"So what did Dad bribe you with to come with me?" Mary asked suddenly.

Dick blinked, wondering how she figured it out. Wondering how she _always_ figured it out. "I _wanted_ to go with you."

"Don't lie to your mother," Mary said, but she said it lightheartedly with a hint of a smile on her lips. "It's alright. I'm not angry. I just want to know what he's up to."

"It's a surprise," Dick said.

"I see."

They returned to their circus trailer. When they stepped inside, there was something sitting on their kitchen counter. Mary set down their bags and walked towards it. She picked up the bouquet, looking at it. She held her hand underneath one of the flowers, observing its petals.

Dick watched her as she looked over it carefully. Behind her, Dick caught John coming out of hiding. He snuck up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. She jumped, startled. She turned around, smacking him on the chest lightly the same way she always did when he snuck up on her.

"Still mad?" he asked. He waited for her answer, forcing a big smile on his face.

"No," she said after a moment. "But you shouldn't use our son to lie. Also, you didn't put the checkbook back in my purse. You owe me."

John looked at Dick. Dick shrugged hopelessly.

"She figured it out."

"You must really like the flowers then, to forgive me," John said.

"No. I forgive you because you're my husband."

At that, John's smile was less forced. "But you do like them, right? They're our wedding flowers."

"I noticed," she said, nodding. Her gaze lowered, looking at the bouquet. "The trailers are too hot. They'll die in a day."

But she buried her nose in the flowers anyways, breathing them in. Most of her face was covered but through the spaces between the petals, Dick just barely caught a hint of a smile.

 _Present Day_

Dick stuck his face in front of the window, trying to peer through the glass. He backed away, sighing, and rang the doorbell again. There was no answer at the door. He tapped his foot, growing antsy, and checked his phone to see if he had any missed texts or calls but he found nothing.

Suddenly the door clicked. Dick's spirits instantly lifted—but when he saw who answered, his face fell.

"Master Dick," Alfred said, surprised. He wasn't the only one who was taken aback—Dick had to shut his jaw. Alfred didn't notice, even smiled and said, "I wasn't expecting you."

"Yeah," Dick said, forcing a smile. He hoped he didn't look too awkward.

"I'm afraid Master Bruce isn't here. He's at a conference."

"Yeah, I think he, uh, mentioned that." Dick cleared his throat. "I'm here to see Damian, actually."

"I see, of course. Come in," Alfred said, inviting him in. "Would you like anything to drink while I go fetch him?"

"Oh no, that's fine, I can just run up there," Dick said. Alfred looked at him a little curiously, seemed to open his mouth to object. Dick quickly changed the subject. "So how have you been?"

"Great, actually," Alfred started. "I joined a book club. Normally I'd be at a meeting but it was cancelled today."

Dick stared. When Alfred began to look at him strangely, Dick quickly fixed his expression and said, "That's, uh, great. That's great that you do that. What are you reading?"

"Poetry, actually. Have you read John Keats?" Dick shook his head. "He's an English poet. It's funny, actually, in my first acting class, I did a reading of _Bright Star_. But enough of that—I'll let you continue your plans. I'll be in the parlor if you need me."

Dick headed up the steps. He knew the way to Damian's room all too well. He swung open the door, found a figure lying in the bed. Dick moved to the windows, drawing the curtains open. The sunlight poured in and Damian instantly recoiled, waking up. He turned to look in the direction of the light but Dick had already picked up the nearest pillow and tossed it at his face.

"How'd you get in?" Damian said, blocking the pillow's path with his arm. Even when he was half-asleep, his reflexes were sharp.

"Alfred."

Damian rubbed his eyes. "Well, I suppose that explains why I wasn't awake. He usually wakes me before he goes to his silly book club or whatever."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Just be glad it wasn't your dad."

Damian shrugged a little. "We'll just have to change our plans, is all. To your place?"

"It's still a disaster but sure," Dick said. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, frowning a little. He was disappointed that he had driven all that way just to find out that he had to turn back the other way. Wayne Estates was not an easy drive from his place, but considering the damage that construction had done to his apartment building, he had decided the trip and the sneaking around would be worth it. And it had been worth it—for the past few days that Dick had done it. It seemed today, however, was not going to work out as well. He supposed that was the risk they took by playing this game of theirs—not every day was going to go well.

It didn't help that he had anticipated seeing Damian the whole trip there. He felt needlessly excited just by seeing Damian there, in his bed, stirring a sense of longing that couldn't be fulfilled.

Damian must have caught him staring because he suddenly looked at him, a sly expression on his face. "We don't _have_ to leave, if you don't want to."

"Alfred is downstairs," Dick said, raising an eyebrow. Damian just looked at him.

"Does that excite you?"

Dick's face flared up, his heart rate picking up. They both knew it wasn't worth the risk—but then again, that wasn't really the point of Damian's teasing. Dick moved to the edge of the bed, leaning over Damian's form. Damian watched him the whole time, eyes dark and intense, closing shut only once their lips had met.

Dick had been waiting for this moment the entire long drive there. He angled his head to kiss Damian deeper. Suddenly Damian's arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him in closer. Dick nearly tripped on the edge of the bed, landing on top of Damian. He caught himself, arm propping himself up on the bed, even though he wanted nothing more than to lay himself on top of Damian, properly.

It was when Damian sucked on his bottom lip that his common sense returned to him. They couldn't keep going, not with someone downstairs.

"Okay, we should really go," Dick said, pulling away. Damian sighed heavily, clearly not pleased. "I'll wait downstairs."

Dick left Damian to get ready, heading down the steps. He heard a voice coming from the other room.

" _...the moving waters at their priestlike task, of pure ablution round earth's human shores_..."

Dick leaned in the doorway of the parlor, watching Pennyworth dust as he read from a book.

" _Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask, of snow upon the mountains and the moons_ … wait, that's not how it goes, is it?" Pennyworth stopped and scratched the back of his head, brow furrowed in puzzlement. Dick easily snuck up behind the butler, plucking the book from his hands. Alfred jumped, startled, but spun around in time. Dick found where Pennyworth left off.

" _No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast_ ," Dick said, in an overly poetic voice. Pennyworth gave him a dry look, although there was a subtle hint of amusement in his eyes. " _To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, awake for ever in a sweet unrest, still, still to hear her tender-taken breath…_ " With every word, Dick's brow furrowed more deeply, his voice slowly falling flat, until he was finally staring at the page in complete perplexion. "What am I reading?"

" _Bright Star, would I were steadfast as thou art,_ by John Keats," Alfred said. Dick thought that was quite a mouthful of a title. "The one I mentioned."

"Well, your friend Keats seems kind of dirty."

"But that's the tragedy of it, Master Dick," Alfred said, speaking in the same voice he always used when he was about to lecture. He took back the book, reached up just so he could bop Dick on top of the head with it. Dick felt like a kid again. "It's about the longing, the unsatisfied desire."

"Unsatisfied desire?" Dick repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Pennyworth said, giving him a droll look. "Something _you_ probably know nothing about."

Dick's mind wandered to just a few moments ago—Damian, in his bed, their mouths connected and bodies close to touching. Dick forced a smile. "You only assume the worst of me, Alfred." Dick nodded towards the book. "So what's his deal then? Did some Victorian honey give him blue balls?"

"Not quite the right era, Master Dick. And the problem was more of society in general," Alfred said, shrugging. " _Bright Star_ was written for Fanny Brawne, Keats' beloved. Keats made little to no money off of his work, so he could not afford to wed Miss Brawne. By the time he proposed anyways, he was diagnosed with tuberculosis. He spent the rest of his days in Italy, writing poetry, engaged but unwed, and died in love but with his relationship unconsummated. Brawne mourned for thirteen years before finally marrying someone else… or was it eleven years?"

"Sounds… depressing."

"Very," Pennyworth said. "But his poetry has since become classics. While Keats and Brawne were never able to completely be with each other, _Bright Star_ will live forever."

Dick couldn't decide if that was beautiful or just sad.

Damian came into the room shortly after. Dick looked at him and said, clumsily, " _Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask, of snow upon the mountains and the moons—_ "

" _No—yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast_ ," Damian finished for him, to Dick's surprise. Damian then rolled his eyes, saying, "Also it's 'moors', not ' _moons'_. 'Moons' doesn't even sound right..."

"I knew it!" Pennyworth declared, shaking the book. He immediately went to the front pages. "Who published this bloody thing?"

"Ready?" Dick asked Damian.

"Are you two leaving?" Alfred asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. We're going to go into the city," Dick said. He wasn't about to admit that they were going to his place.

Alfred seemed amused. "Why did you drive out here? I could have just given Master Damian the car and saved you the trip."

Dick fumbled to come up with an excuse. "I like the drive."

"I see," Alfred said. Dick could see the growing confusion in his eyes.

"Let's go," Damian said, exasperated, and Dick didn't object when Damian started dragging him towards the door.

* * *

They finally made it to Dick's apartment, after an annoyingly long drive—only to find the front door blocked off.

"What's going on?" Dick exclaimed, running up the steps. A big, burly guy in dirt-stained clothes held out his hand, stopping him.

"Hold on," he said, annoyed. "You can't come in here."

"This is my _apartment_."

"You still can't come in. We're redoing the floors."

"This is the first I've heard of this."

"Landlord called all of the tenants a few nights ago," said a woman who was standing on the steps, smoking a cigarette. Dick recognized her as his neighbor.

 _Night_. Dick must have been on patrol.

"When will it be done?"

"Couple of hours or so," the guy said, shrugging. "But we can't have anyone stomping in here before it's done."

Dick returned to Damian's side, looking hopeless. "I had no idea. They weren't even here when I left."

"Could we just climb in through your window?" Damian said. He looked at the apartment, no doubt already mapping out the easiest way to get to the third story.

"It doesn't matter," Dick said, frustrated. "My place is missing a wall and has so much plaster that it looks like it snowed in there."

"So what should we do?"

"Come back later, I guess," Dick said, shrugging. "You hungry?"

Damian just shrugged.

As they walked to the restaurant Dick had in mind, Dick's mind wandered. He wondered if they had ever gone out to eat since they had started doing… well, whatever it could be called that they were doing. Dick couldn't call it _dating_ because they had never actually gone out on a date. But it wasn't as if their entire relationship was based on them sneaking into each others' bedrooms. They hung out almost everyday—although, when Dick thought about it, even before they had first kissed, they had hung out everyday.

"Do you think this is a date?" he said, blurting it out. He wasn't sure what Damian's reaction would be but he certainly wasn't expecting the small laugh that came out of him.

"I'd say it's closer to killing time."

That worried Dick a little. "Yeah, but I mean… we are together, right?"

"I mean, I suppose."

 _Suppose_?

Perhaps it wasn't the best time for Dick to bring up serious questions in regards to their relationship but Dick never had much of a filter. Damian looked at him warily, as if sensing something was wrong.

"Would you call it being together?"

"Yeah," Dick said, his throat feeling dry. Damian shrugged a little.

"Then I guess we're together." He looked at Dick, who couldn't help but smile a little. Damian immediately shook his head, looking almost embarrassed. It only made Dick smile more. "Stop giving me that look... Why are you asking about this all of a sudden anyways? You never cared about labels before."

"Well, we've been seeing each other for awhile now. And I was just thinking that maybe we should go somewhere nicer if this is going to be our first date."

Damian seemed perplexed, his brow furrowing slightly. Dick could sense the sudden shift. "Why? We've been out to eat before."

"Yeah but not… _together_."

"But what's the difference between then and now?"

"We weren't… well…" Dick smiled a little.

" _Tt_. You must watch cheesy romance films in your spare time. That or all of Pennyworth's poetry has brainwashed you," Damian said. His smirk felt a little cruel but there was a playfulness to it too. "Should we just redo everything now that we're officially together? Playing arcades, _together_. Fighting Professor Pyg, _together_. Getting kidnapped by Joker, _together_. Getting stabbed to death by my brother-clone as part of my mother's evil plot, _together_."

"Well, I'd like to skip the last thing," Dick said, frowning at the memory. "But the other stuff sounds pretty fun."

Damian smiled a little but it quickly faded away. He shrugged a little. "Isn't it good enough to spend time together without having to act differently? You know my feelings are true."

Dick let the words settle in. He supposed Damian had a point. Dick liked what they had going on, whatever that may be, and he knew that he cared about Damian deeply. It wasn't necessary to start worrying about other things. It wasn't as if much had changed—they had already formed such a deep bond.

Still, it was a little backwards from Dick's way of thinking. He didn't realize he was zoning out until Damian gently bumped into him.

"If it really bothers you that much, then no," he said. "This isn't a date. You can save our first for a different time, once you figured out the fireworks arrangements or whatever ridiculous thing you plan on doing."

Dick smiled. "Maybe."

The street they were heading down had several shop stands set up, which was pretty typical in that neighborhood of Gotham. Dick had never paid much attention to any of them since it was mostly just junk—but he heard some arguing which set off his hero senses. He glanced over but it didn't seem to be anything serious—just some old woman in a hijab arguing with a shop owner, probably about prices or something petty.

Still, he couldn't help but look at them curiously. The same time he looked, the woman turned her head and locked eyes with him. Her gaze then fell on Damian, to which her face suddenly lit up. She quickly waved her hand, gesturing for them to come over. Dick elbowed Damian, who hadn't been paying attention.

"I think that woman needs your help."

Damian looked in the direction Dick was indicating. He saw the old woman. He shrugged.

"And?"

Dick looked at him, annoyed. "So you have to help her."

"She doesn't appear to be getting attacked by robo-ninjas or anything of the sort."

"Damian, part of being a hero is helping everyone. You don't get to dictate who needs help and who doesn't."

"I'm not Superman, is all I'm saying."

"Damian," Dick said sternly.

"There are only a few situations where I enjoy you using that tone and this is definitely not one of them." When Dick didn't budge, Damian rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine. But it better be quick. We've had enough distractions today."

The minute they approached, the woman started speaking to Damian in rapid Arabic. Damian listened carefully before finally turning to the standowner. He pointed to some cartoony-looking magazine sitting on the wall behind the clerk.

"How much is that?"

The vendor didn't budge. He gave Damian a hard look. "Like I've been trying to tell your friend here: no English, no service."

"Am I not speaking English?" Damian said, giving him a dry look.

" _You_ are, _she's_ not."

"What difference does it make?"

"Look, do you have any idea how many people live in Gotham? How many non-English speakers there are in this city? If I serve to her, then everyone who can't speak English is going to think they can shop here. Then what? Do you plan on translating for them too?"

"That explanation makes no sense. This is just one transaction and I can speak English just fine."

"I'm not dealing with any lost-in-translation errors. Besides, it's _my_ business, so unless _you're_ going to order, scram!"

"Fine," Damian said, rolling his eyes. Dick could sense his frustration. "Give me one, then."

"Well, I'm not going to sell it to you now."

" _What_?"

The woman tugged on Damian's sleeve just as the merchant started talking. Damian held up his hand to halt the man from talking any further. The man scoffed but Damian was already busy talking to the woman. The more Damian talked, the more the woman's face fell. There was a mixture of confusion and frustration in her face. She waved her wallet in Damian's face and said something but Damian shook his head.

Meanwhile, Dick stood uselessly on the sidelines.

Damian finally turned to the seller. "The magazine is for her grandson."

"I don't care."

Damian gritted his teeth a little but he kept talking anyways, "Fine. Since you've decided to be a petulant child, where else can I find that magazine?"

"What the hell do I look like? The internet? Look it up!"

"What, you can't think of a single competitor that might be selling that? It's not a difficult question!"

The woman started speaking again, faster this time. Damian's brow furrowed slightly, trying to listen, but he was too far involved in his conversation with the seller to respond to her.

Dick continued to stand there uselessly, wondering what can of worms he had accidentally opened.

"I don't know, use a magic lamp or something!"

"You _better_ not have said that for the reason I _think_ you said that."

"You insulted me first!"

The woman raised her voice. Damian couldn't keep ignoring her. He turned to her, trying to talk.

"Hey! Don't ignore me!" the vendor exclaimed.

Suddenly both voices were shouting at Damian. Damian stood there rigidly. He had stopped talking. Dick could sense the growing tension, the rising anger that Damian was struggling to keep stifled. Dick opened his mouth to finally intercede.

"Damian—"he started.

" _Enough_!" Damian barked, and all the talking, regardless of language, stopped. " _What am I? A walking, talking Rosetta Stone?_ " He jabbed a finger in the merchant's direction. "Are you going to take her money or not?"

The man looked at him, his expression hard.

"No," he finally said.

"Then you're a fucking idiot!" Damian said. Normally, his insults were more eloquent. He was furious.

He finally turned to the woman, speaking quickly and sharply. The woman nodded, looking disappointed, but she conceded. She walked away. Damian immediately took off—Dick hurried to keep up.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't think it was going to end up like that."

Damian calmed down a little. "Well, you were right. It was my responsibility to do something."

Dick shook his head. "Still, I feel like I forced you into it. I didn't _do_ anything."

"What could you have done? That idiot wasn't going to change his mind."

"I still should have said something. I don't like the way he talked to you."

Damian snorted a little. "Please. I hardly need you to fight my battles. People like that exist everywhere. Really, Richard, it's not a big deal. If it was any other situation, I'm sure you would have kicked his ass, but plebeians like him aren't worth our time."

Suddenly, a vague memory crossed Dick's mind. "You know, if my mom was around, she would have probably called that guy a _gaje_."

At that, Damian's brow furrowed a little. "I don't think he was that awful. Stupid, really stupid, but mostly just ignorant."

At that, Dick rose a brow. "You know what that means?"

"Yes. It means impure. Non-Romani."

That was different than how Dick understood it.

"You really are a walking, talking Rosetta Stone," Dick said, walking into him so they could bump shoulders. Damian looked at him, trying to contain his amusement, but there was no denying the way the corner of his mouth quirked up.

"It's become a curse, apparently."

"I think it's great. What's the saying? 'A person who speaks two languages has two minds'? And you speak at least three, easily."

"I've never heard that phrase. I think you made it up."

"I've heard it from somewhere. I just can't remember where."

They finally arrived at their destination—but when they stepped inside, the entire restaurant was crowded. Dick's shoulders slumped.

"Great," he said sarcastically.

"I suppose we'll kill more time this way," Damian said, not bothered. He looked at Dick expectantly. "You're better at coming up with Plan B's than I am. What do we do now?"

Dick had already been formulating one. He pulled Damian in a different direction. He stopped, looking around, before dragging Damian into the bathroom.

Damian looked at him oddly.

"Why are we in here?" he asked, as Dick locked the door.

"Well, the plan was never to kill time. The plan was just to get away from Pennyworth, right?" Dick said. He gestured around the space. "This was the first place with a single stall I could think of."

"This is just crude."

"I mean, I just figured we're pretty good at sneaking around anyways." He couldn't read Damian's serious-looking expression. A bit nervously, he quickly said, "But we don't have to, if you don't want to."

Damian looked at him, and there was a hint of something wicked in his gaze. "I didn't say that."

* * *

Dick walked past the gates of Wayne Manor. He placed one foot on the step, leading toward the front door, but stopped when he noticed wet footprints on the path leading around the house. He followed it to the greenhouse.

"Alfred?" he called out. He stepped into the greenhouse, instantly greeted by the warm and humid air. He walked deeper inside, blinking in surprise when a butterfly flew past his face, flitting from plant to plant. Dick smiled a little, looking at all of the different plants. He continued walking, careful not to step in any puddles or scattered dirt. He found Alfred in the corner, watering some flowers.

Dick smirked a little mischievously, realizing Alfred was still in his own little world. He leaned against the nearest table, waiting for the butler to notice him. A few seconds passed.

"Hey, Alfred," he said casually.

Pennyworth jumped in surprise, spinning around and nearly spraying Dick with the hose—but Dick had backed up in time. Alfred relaxed when he saw who it was, sighing.

"You think I'd be used to it by now," he grumbled, turning off the hose. Dick bit his lip to prevent himself from laughing. "Have you come to visit again, Master Dick?"

"Back to business, actually," Dick said. He noticed something in front of Pennyworth—the flower bush that he had been attending. He drew in closer, curious.

"The front door should be unlocked. I'll be tied up in here," Pennyworth said.

"I know what those are," Dick said, still distracted by the flowers. His face lit up, the memory returning to them. "I mean, I don't know what they _are_ , but my mom loved them. She said she had them at her wedding."

"Those would be gardenias," Alfred explained. Dick must have been staring because Alfred chuckled a little and said, "You may take one if you wish, Master Dick."

Dick considered it for a moment—but he stepped back, shrugging. "I don't know what I'd do with it."

Even so, Alfred reached into his apron, pulling out snippers. The stem was cleanly cut from the bush.

"Make sure you put it in water. They don't last long without it—but if you take good enough care of it, it should last a few days," Alfred said. Dick was still uncertain but he took the flower from Pennyworth anyways. The butler looked at him, smiling. "Cut flowers don't do much—but they are still nice to look at and have around."

"That is true," Dick said, looking down. The gardenia looked back at him, its bright petals seeming to reach up towards him.

Dick headed back to the manor. Inside, he peeked into the parlor, deciding that Bruce was probably in the Cave, and quickly made his way upstairs. He snuck into Damian's room without knocking. Damian was sitting on the floor in front of his shelves, seemed to be organizing some books. He looked over his shoulder, saw Dick and raised a brow.

"What are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too."

Damian seemed amused. Still, he said, "I mean, what are you doing in _here_? You know we're not alone."

"Really?" Dick said, looking at Damian skeptically. "We seem to be the only ones around to me."

There was a meow. Dick looked, spotted Alfred the cat sitting on the edge of Damian's bed, his eyes narrowed at Dick.

"Well, almost."

Damian stood up. When he got close, Dick held the gardenia out. Damian stopped and looked at it oddly.

"Do you always carry flowers around with you?" Damian looked at it uncertainly. "Something from Poison Ivy?"

"No," Dick said, shoulders slumping. Why did everything have to go back to vigilante work? "It's for you."

When Damian didn't respond, Dick practically shoved it into his hand. Damian looked at it before looking at him. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"It's a present," Dick said insistently. Dick had to wonder, did Damian really not understand how this worked? Now that he thought about it, he couldn't think of any situation where Damian would have received flowers. But then Damian looked up at him, his expression dry.

"I'm not a girl."

Dick frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"It's just overly sentimental is all," Damian said, shrugging.

Dick's expression soured. "You know what, nevermind. I'll keep it."

He reached for it but Damian stepped back in time. He looked at Dick, smirking a little. "No need to get testy. I'll keep it, if you like."

"I don't want you to keep it because I'm telling you to. I want you to keep it because _you_ want to," Dick said. He took a step back, realizing he was getting too upset. It wasn't worth getting frustrated over a stupid flower, he decided.

Damian slowly set the flower on his bedside table, in an exaggeratedly delicate manner. He looked at Dick and gestured to it with both hands. Dick looked at him, annoyed, but he reeled it back in.

"So really, what are you doing here?" Damian asked.

"Batman stuff," Dick said, shrugging.

"And to give me a plant."

"And that," Dick said, nodding. It was time for him to get going—Bruce had been waiting for him. Still, it was a good to see Damian—even if he was making fun of him. Dick leaned in to give Damian a quick kiss before he had to go. Damian's hands reached for his face, pulling him in closer. Deeper. Fingers lacing through Dick's hair. And it all felt so nice that he sighed against Damian's lips, and that one noise seemed to only fuel the desire between them.

Dick almost forgot where they were for a moment until Damian suddenly pushed him away. Dick was startled until he heard the noise at the door. He turned around just as Bruce poked his head in. He didn't appear to have seen anything, even looked at Dick in surprise.

"Dick. I didn't know you were here already."

"Pennyworth said I could let myself in," Dick said, his heart racing. He tried to relax—but it was hard when Bruce was known for being insanely observant.

Indeed, Bruce seemed to glance back and forth between them—no doubt wondering why they were just standing around in Damian's room—but he didn't comment on it. "I'll actually need both of you. Let's meet in the Cave."

"Yeah," Dick said, nodding, and Bruce took off. Once his back was turned, Dick looked back at Damian and made an exaggeratedly terrified expression. Damian rolled his eyes at the joke.

They followed Bruce to the Cave, where Bruce talked them through one of the cases he had been investigating.

"This man's been targeting down vigilantes," Bruce finally explained. "I don't expect him to be a real threat—he's mostly been chasing down amateurs. But while he's loose, I need you two and the rest of the team to be careful."

"It shouldn't be too difficult. You and I can take him down alone," Dick said, shrugging.

"I know," Bruce said. "But the point is that we all need to communicate better. Our patrol times don't always coordinate with each other—we all have our personal cases that we work on. But from now on, when we go out, we need to let the rest of the team know. If one of us goes missing, somebody else should be able to know right away."

"So, what, everytime we leave our houses, we need to tell the rest of the team?" Damian said, frowning.

"Exactly. I know it seems tedious but it's just a safety precaution," Bruce said. He looked at them both. "Now is not the time for secrets."

Dick knew Bruce didn't mean anything personal by it—but the words still seemed to stab right into him. A feeling similar to guilt washed over him. He tried to shrug it off, even disguised his discomfort with a smile.

"Aren't you the king of secrets?"

"There's a time and a place, Dick. I only keep secrets as a way of protection, never to deceive."

Dick's gaze lowered at that. He could still see Damian standing there, in his peripherals. Dick wondered where his secret leaned—protection, or deception.

* * *

"We need to tell him," Dick said, ducking under a punch.

" _Tt_. Tell him _what_?" Damian said, twisting a man's arm behind his back.

"You know what I'm talking about," Dick said, eyes narrowing. Another gang member charged at him—Dick thrusted his hand forward, breaking the man's nose. "It's not just sneaking onto patrol with each other—we need to tell him _everything_."

"You realize what will happen if we do?" Damian said, twisting a knife out of a man's hand.

"What _could_ happen," Dick corrected, dodging a lead pipe. "Maybe he'll approve."

"Right," Damian said, snorting. "And maybe the Joker's not crazy. Maybe he's just misunderstood."

"I'm serious," Dick said, frowning. He tossed an escrima behind him, which ricocheted off a trashcan and struck a man who was trying to sneak away. "He's going to be _more_ upset if we don't tell him soon."

"He's _always_ upset. That's never going to change," Damian said, tripping their last gang member. They went to tie them up. "He's got all of his Justice League crap and big case stuff that he's working on. I feel like having this blown up in his face is only asking for a negative reaction. Besides, I'd like to enjoy our time a little longer before we drop the bomb—you know it's not going to end with him. Once we tell him, it'll spread to the rest of the team, and then _everyone_ will know."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I can easily predict it all right now: Father will be upset, Red Robin is going to lecture us, Batgirl is going to start questioning you, and Red Hood is going to be an annoying asshole about it and constantly bring it up as a _joke_."

Dick couldn't argue with that. Just thinking about it was making him grimace.

"I'm not saying _never_. I'm just saying a little more time would be nice." They tied up the last of the criminals, contacting the police to pick them up. Afterwards, Damian looked at Dick. "We will tell them."

"But how much time is more time? How much longer do you want to keep sneaking around?" Dick asked, feeling unsure.

Damian shrugged a little. "I mean… it hasn't been all that bad."

"No," Dick eventually decided, smiling. "It hasn't."

They were walking down an alley, ready to patrol the rest of the city. Dick glanced at all of the windows, making certain that there was no one looking out of them. He grabbed Damian by the back of his hood, tugging him closer to the wall. Damian looked up at him, surprised. Dick loved those little moments where he managed to catch Damian off-guard. He quickly crushed his lips against Damian's, his heart racing all the while. When they parted, Dick caught a glimpse of Damian's expression—a look of deep thought in his eyes.

"What?" he asked, sensing that something was bothering him.

"Are you worried at all?" Damian asked quietly. Dick looked at him and wondered about the way Damian was watching him almost expectantly. Almost apprehensively.

"About what?" Dick said, looking him over, as if trying to find clues about what was going on in Damian's head. Trying to figure out the fears he knew Damian would not speak of.

"About what they'll say."

Dick had considered the answer to that question many times. It was hard to decide since it was difficult to expect what everyone's reactions would be. Damian had made a pretty good prediction earlier—but the hardest one to predict, the true wild card, was Bruce. And it was his reaction that mattered the most.

"Are you?" Dick asked.

Damian shook his head at once. "No."

"Then no," Dick decided.

* * *

Dick's apartment had been torn apart.

Some of the walls had been stripped down completely, lined with tarp. But the bedroom was still spared, save for the dust and plaster that he was constantly sweeping up. It still maintained its privacy, locked away from the rest of the exposed apartment.

Dick wasn't sure if he was experiencing déjà vu or if he was just feeling especially nostalgic, but there was something eerily familiar about the scene before him, even though it was an act that he and Damian had played out many times before.

Dick decided it must have been the window. Normally he kept the blinds drawn but lately he had to keep them open to allow fresh air to flow. The opening allowed the moonlight to pour in, illuminating Damian's skin in a way that Dick hadn't seen in a long time. While Dick had learned to love the bright, early sunlight of Damian's room, it was in the beginning, when they had first started seeing each other, that they had spent all of their time in Dick's apartment. Tonight there was no pitch darkness or artificial lights, just natural illuminance that reminded Dick of the earliest nights they had spent together—that now, seemed so long ago.

Dick wasn't sure when it had started. Maybe it began to grow when they had started to spend more time together outside of the uniform. At the time, it didn't feel like anything new. They had always hung out together. But looking back on it, Dick could see that he and Damian had spent nearly every day and night together during that period of time. Damian had even started patrolling with him more than he was patrolling with Bruce or anyone else.

Dick wasn't sure when exactly he started noticing the long glances—the startling periods of eye contact and times he had caught Damian looking at him. His suspicions had started somewhere around then—but maybe for Damian, it had all started long before that, and Dick had only noticed because that was when _he_ started staring.

In the circus, Dick had to learn to mask his emotions with a smile. It didn't matter how awful a day he had or how tired he was, every moment on stage had to be done under the veil of happiness. When he started his new life in Wayne Manor, it seemed that mask was never lifted. Emotions in the world of vigilantism was best left concealed. Silence was considered an essential to surviving. And so, Damian had never said anything, reeling Dick into a strange state of confusion, wondering if he was assuming too much or even projecting his own feelings. But Dick was never content with silence, so he was the one who made the first move.

Dick often found himself wondering how long the silence would have continued if he had let Damian take the first step instead. He wondered if things could have happened sooner if Damian had just said something.

And there was something else familiar about that night. The hitched breaths. The stifled gasps. The moans crushed behind clenched teeth.

Sometimes he would see Damian reach to cover his mouth, to catch the noises that threatened to escape, and Dick always made sure to capture his wrist when he did that.

Dick still wasn't sure why.

It just seemed that the louder Damian was, the more honest he was being. But sometimes, Dick wondered if it only seemed that way, and if in actuality, Damian was just attuning his voice to match Dick's.

* * *

Dick stirred, eyes clenched tight. He was vaguely aware of a warmth next to him. It felt nice. He scooted closer, the mattress creaking beneath him. As he laid there, huddled up, his mind began to turn. He became aware of what he was hearing—breathing, that wasn't his own.

Dick forced his eyes open, wincing at the sunlight. He backed away, seeing the body next to him. The realization slowly sunk in. He quickly turned around, snatching his phone from his bedside table. He frowned when he saw the time, but it was the missing calls notifications that truly woke him up.

"Shit," he said, sitting up. He quickly turned around and shook Damian. "Damian. Damian."

Damian woke up, rubbing his eyes. As his eyes adjusted to the light, the confusion disappeared. He turned, looking over at Dick. He sighed heavily, his head falling back on the pillow.

"Damnit…" he said, burying his face in his hands.

"I don't suppose you have your phone, do you?" Dick asked.

"I never take it with me on patrol." Damian shook his head to himself. "This is awful. He's probably convinced I'm _dead_ right now. Wouldn't be surprised if he's got bat-droids all over Gotham by now…"

"You'll just have to call him on my phone."

"And how am I going to explain why I was gone in the first place? Or why I'm here, calling on your phone? Should I say I was kidnapped by dollotrons and, it was the strangest thing, but they just _mysteriously let me go_?"

"Just tell him the truth. Well, the partial truth, anyways. Tell him we were on patrol, stopped at my place, and we were exhausted and passed out."

At that, Damian seemed a little amused. "Yes, I suppose it was rather exhausting, wasn't it?"

Dick's face reddened a little. "Just… be sure to leave out the details."

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Dick and Damian looked at each other at the same time.

"You don't suppose he'd—"Damian started but Dick immediately cut in.

"Yes. Yes he would."

"Well now what?" Damian said, exasperated.

"Just get ready. We'll stick to the same excuse."

Dick hurriedly got dressed and headed toward the front door. There was another knock. Dick swung open the door—and stopped and blinked, when he realized it wasn't Bruce at all.

Tim looked Dick up and down.

"Rough night?" he asked.

Dick was so confused. "Uh, no."

"What's with that look? Were you expecting someone else?"

On the bright side, it wasn't Bruce. But the fact that it was Tim, who was arguably just as observant as Bruce, did nothing to ease him. Dick rubbed the back of his neck.

"I, no, I just… why are you here?"

Tim gave him a wary look. "You invited me. I thought you wanted to work on the Wilke case together."

Suddenly Dick remembered. "Shit, you're right. I totally forgot."

"So… are you going to let me in?" Tim said, eyes shifting to the side.

"My place is kind of a mess right now. Maybe it's not such a good idea to meet here," Dick said. Tim gave him a look.

"You told me that already. I thought we were just going to go over files."

Dick was so tired and rattled that his mind was completely blanking. He wasn't sure what to do. He opened his mouth to find another excuse when Tim suddenly tilted his head, looking past Dick.

"Damian?" Dick's stomach dropped. Tim just frowned, continuing, "You know Bruce is looking for you, right?"

Dick turned around, saw that Damian had managed to find clothes that fit him—Dick was thankful, on many levels, that they had generally the same body type—and even managed to look nicer and more put together than Dick was.

"How do you know that?" Damian asked.

"He called me. Said he found footage of you leaving but that you never informed him you were going out." In a lecturing voice, Tim added, "There's a killer on the loose. You can't just run off whenever you feel like it." His eyes flickered in Dick's direction with the same disapproving gaze. "Have you been here the whole time?"

"We were patrolling together. We were chasing some guys and it took up most of the night. It was late so I let him crash here instead of going all the way back to the manor," Dick said easily enough. He scratched the back of his head and lied, "Totally forgot about the killer thing. Completely slipped my mind."

"A lot of things seem to be slipping your mind," Tim muttered, but he seemed to accept the excuse. Dick gestured him into the apartment, even managed a big smile.

"You should probably head back home," Tim said, giving Damian a stern look.

"I am," Damian said, in an equally snotty voice. Indeed, he seemed to have managed to pack his uniform in a bag— _his_ bag, Dick realized, recognizing it.

"Good," Tim said, scowling.

" _Great_ ," Damian said, immaturely. Tim glared at him.

As Damian walked past Tim, there was a subtle turn of Tim's head. He was watching Damian, his brow furrowed in thought. As Damian went to the door, there was a moment where his eyes locked with Dick's—they looked at each other awkwardly.

"See ya, buddy," Dick said, trying to sound casual.

Damian made a face.

 _Okay_ , maybe that wasn't the smoothest. Dick wanted to slap himself but he powered through the embarrassment, letting Damian out of his apartment. He turned back to Tim without a hitch. They set up a place on Dick's dusty kitchen table to go over the files. Tim began explaining the case but didn't make it far before his face suddenly scrunched up. He sighed heavily and finally said what was bothering him, "I'm sorry, but was Damian wearing _your_ clothes?"

Dick was panicking. So he smiled.

"Yeah, like I said, late night. He didn't bring anything with him. So I lent him some things," Dick said, shrugging casually. "No big deal. I don't mind."

"Right, that's what I figured," Tim said. But he was still bothered, his brow deeply furrowed as he concentrated. "The thing is though, now that I think about it, I've seen him in that hoodie before."

Damian always wore outerwear—winter, summer, it didn't matter—and lately he had developed a bad habit of stealing Dick's sweatshirts. A fact that Dick didn't realize the consequences of until now.

"That's because it's his," Dick said quickly. Tim narrowed his eyes at Dick.

"But why wouldn't he just bring an entire change of clothes if he was going to bring his hoodie anyways?"

"Because he left it here," Dick said slowly, coming up with the excuse as the words came out of his mouth. Tim still looked confused. "He stopped by a few days ago, got plaster on it, and so I agreed to wash it. I just gave it back to him now."

Tim leaned back in his chair. There was something still bothering him. He looked at Dick, "Didn't Barbara buy you a hoodie like that at the last Christmas party?"

Dick was ready to flip the table. Fucking detectives.

But he gritted his teeth and shook his head. "Yes. Yes she did. But it was a green one."

"I thought it was blue," Tim said, eyes shifting to the side.

"Nope. Definitely… definitely green."

* * *

"It was like being in a fucking interrogation room," Dick said, rolling over. His head plopped onto the pillow.

"That's what happens when you work with the _World's Greatest Detective_ and his wannabe-minion," Damian said, annoyed.

"Just another reason why we need to say something," Dick said. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face, feeling stressed just thinking about it. "They're going to figure it out."

"Oh come _on_. Knowing won't satisfy them. If we tell them now, we're going to bombarded with questions for _months_." Damian gestured to his bed, adding, "And then we can just say goodbye to this. The closest you're ever going to get to my room is the Cave—I bet he won't even let you up the staircase. He'll probably have alarms and cameras set all over my room."

Cameras.

" _Shit_!" Dick cursed, suddenly sitting up. Damian grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him back down to the mattress.

"Calm down. I already checked."

Even so, Dick was antsy. "And wires?"

"For fuck's sake," Damian said, rolling his eyes. "My father is insane, yes, but he doesn't have my room _wired_. At least not without me knowing or figuring it out." He then smirked a little. "He does, however, have the city cameras. Maybe your moment of affection in that alleyway the other night will pop up."

"Don't joke about that," Dick said, although the teasing was admittedly calming him down. If Damian wasn't concerned, then there was less of a reason for Dick to be. "You do have a point though. If we tell him about us and he's not happy over the news, we can't keep meeting up here and flaunting it in his face. When my apartment is fixed, we'll tell him."

Damian shrugged, nonchalant. "Sure. I mean, my father's never happy, so that's a safe plan."

Dick looked at Damian. "But _you're_ happy, right?"

Damian raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I mean, we've been running into a lot of problems. But you're… happy, right?"

"That's an odd question," Damian said, the corner of his mouth quirking up a little. Dick looked at him suspiciously.

"And that's… not an answer," Dick said.

An awkward, tense moment passed between them.

"Holy shit, do you not want to be with me?" The bed creaked as he turned himself to face Damian fully.

"What?" Damian said, drawing back. He looked at Dick incredulously. Dick was equally perplexed.

"Well, I'm sorry for being suspicious, but you've been weird ever since I brought up the idea that we were a couple," Dick said, frowning. He said he was sorry but he wasn't sure how much of that he meant. In truth, he had been bothered for the past couple of days. Dick started listing off things, "You don't want to tell _anyone_ that we're together. You didn't even want to _say_ that we were together until I brought it up first. We haven't really done anything besides sleep around. And anytime I try to do something outside of the realm of sleeping together, you act like it's weird."

Damian narrowed his eyes, clearly irritated by the accusations. "What do you need from me? To shout my affections from a mountaintop?"

"No, I want you to say it _period_ ," Dick said. "I didn't know if you liked me when I first kissed you—because you never said anything to me." Dick shook his head to himself. "I _still_ don't know."

"You're absurd," Damian said, rolling his eyes. "Why would I be in this bed with you if I didn't want to? Why would I risk having my father chew off our heads if I didn't decide it was worth the risk? Why do you need me to fill your ears with _words_?"

"Because I _want_ you to say it," Dick insisted.

"Isn't this enough?" Damian said, exasperated. "Why do I have to use sentiments to prove myself to you?"

"It's not about proving yourself," Dick said, frustrated. "Not everything is a _test_."

"Fine! I'm happy!" Damian exclaimed.

The outburst was followed by a short silence. Dick rose an eyebrow, noticing the shade of color on Damian's face. "Are you… blushing?"

"No, I'm just angry at you," Damian said. Dick touched his face, feeling the heat on his skin. Damian slapped the hand away. "Did you not hear what I just said?"

"Yeah. You told me you were happy," Dick teased. The color darkened. Damian buried his face in his hand.

Dick couldn't help it. He started laughing.

"You're sadistic," Damian said, his voice muffled by his hand.

"Is that seriously why you won't tell me how you feel? It's because you're embarrassed?" As preposterous as it was, it all suddenly started to make sense. Damian could curse someone out without blinking twice, but when it came to doing anything nice, he did it begrudgingly. His words of praise were rare, and when they came around, they were always short and to the point. Being loving just… wasn't part of his persona. "Do you get embarrassed when _I_ say romantic things to you?"

"You never _shut up_ ," Damian said darkly. Dick just laughed some more. "It's weird, okay? It's not that I dislike it. I'm just not used to it."

"You flirt with me all of the time."

"That's different." Damian faltered, like he was having difficulties expressing what he wanted to say. "It's not just you. It's everyone. Everyone here is so open and affectionate. People shake hands with strangers and use 'I love you' as a way of saying goodbye. It's weird."

"What do you mean by _here_? Like, before you came to Gotham? Is it a cultural thing?"

"I think it's more of an upbringing," Damian said, frowning.

At that, Dick finally understood. He imagined the League of Assassins didn't have a lot of laughing and hugging.

"But you know you can express that to me, right?" Dick said, tentatively. "I'm not going to hurt or reject you. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Damian nodded a little, eyes lost in thought.

Dick's gaze lowered. Even though he now understood Damian's struggle, he still had this lost, empty feeling inside of him. He wished Damian could just say how he felt. He wished he could get Damian to say it without feeling like he was forcing it out of him. Still, he decided he had to be patient. He scooted in closer, kissing Damian's forehead. As he opened his eyes, he noticed something over Damian's head.

Dick glanced silently at the lonely, dead flower on Damian's bedside table. The edges of its petals had turned brown and wrinkled, left completely unattended.

Dick remembered Pennyworth's advice when he had handed it over—that a cut gardenia could last a few days, but only if it was taken care of.

Dick wondered how long it had taken for the petals to go dry.

* * *

"Red Hood, what's your status?"

"I'm a little busy at the moment," a voice growled into the commlink. Dick could hear the unmistakable sounds of fighting in the background.

"If you need help, you can just say so," came Tim's voice, sounding exasperated.

"Isn't it _obvious_? What more do you need more from me? _Help_! _Help_! _Mayday_!" Jason practically barked back. The sheer volume of his voice was so alarming that Dick winced.

"Not the way I'd put it—but yes. Please, for the love of God," Barbara said hurriedly. They were both assigned to fight the outbreak of Man-Bats together so Dick wasn't alarmed to hear the distress in her voice—he was, however, worried that the two of them were not enough to halt the onslaught.

"Red Robin, can you take care of that?" Batman asked.

"Still trying to work on the sonar, Batman. It's almost done."

" _If you need help, you can just say so_ ," Jason mimicked in a nasally voice.

"I don't sound like that. And I didn't mean _my_ help…" Tim said. He had the decency to at least sound sheepish.

"Nightwing—"Batman started.

"Already on my way," Dick said, hopping from one roof to the next. "The Langstroms have already been placed in the bunker for their own safety. They have no idea where the _real_ Man-Bat is, though. How's hunting down our formula thief?"

"Just finished punching his face in. Batman and I will be dropping him off on Gordon's footstep in a moment," came Damian's voice.

"Nice work."

"Did you expect anything less?" Damian said, cocky. Dick smiled.

"You two are cute and all but _please_ —"Jason said.

"I'm on my way," Dick said, reddening at Jason's comment. Did he make himself too obvious? Bruce was on the line too. HIs heartbeat quickened a little, hoping no one looked too much into Jason's teasing.

Dick arrived downtown. His stomach dropped when he saw the sheer amount of Man-Bats. Someone had stolen Kirk Langstrom's formula and infected civilians with the virus—although the formula seemed to have been incomplete. The formula seemed to wear off after a certain amount of time but still, that didn't stop the fact that they were running around and terrorizing the city. They needed to be wrangled in before they could cause serious damage.

Dick watched as Batgirl threw a bolas at one that was getting away. Dick couldn't help but snicker a little at the sight. On top of only being temporary, the virus seemed to be taking to people differently—some of the people were only part bat. The woman that Batgirl had taken down had her top half as a bat and her bottom half as human legs in high heels. The sight was more amusing than it should have been.

Dick didn't laugh too long, especially as Jason got picked up by an angry Man-Bat, unable to get a proper aim with the antidote-gun that Batman had provided to him.

Dick quickly closed in, clonking the Man-Bat on the head with an escrima stick. The Man-Bat let go of Jason and flew off, and Jason quickly turned and aimed the gun, shooting the Man-Bat with the antidote. Barbara ran in on time, catching the man who had transformed back into himself as he fell.

"Uh," the man awkwardly, covering himself. The only remainders of his clothing were the ripped sleeves hanging onto his shoulders and the bottoms of jeans around his ankles.

"Don't worry, I didn't see anything," Barbara said, her gaze to the sky. "The public library is housing all of the infected. Hurry over so they can check on you."

When he was gone, Barbara whispered to the rest of them, "I totally saw it as he fell. It flopped around. I feel so awkward."

"I'm so done with today," Jason said. "If I get dragged around in the sky like a ragdoll one more time, I'm going to scream."

"Get down!" Barbara and Dick yelled in unison, pulling Jason down and ducking as a Man-Bat swooped over their heads. Jason growled and pointed the antidote-gun, shooting.

"This is worse than I thought," Dick said, shadows flying around them.

"Robin and I are finished," Batman's voice suddenly cut in. "We're heading over. Red Robin, are you still working on the sonar?"

"I'm really close to being done, I promise."

"Hang in there, everyone," Bruce said.

"I really don't think pep talk is going to make a difference," Jason muttered.

"Then stop talking and start kicking more ass," Barbara said, shooting her antidote gun at a Man-Bat with a person's face.

"Uh, what should I do?" Dick said, lacking anything to cure the Man-Bats.

"Make sure Red Hood doesn't get kidnapped. They seem to like him," Barbara said, sounding amused.

"Fuck you," Jason said. He sucked in his breath as a Man-Bat grabbed at his jacket but couldn't get a proper grip, flying away.

Dick helped them the best he could, trying to wrangle and tie the Man-Bats down, or at least keep them off of Jason and Barbara while they used the antidote guns. It became easier when Bruce and Damian finally arrived on the scene, helping out.

"I got it," Tim suddenly said. As if on cue, some of the Man-Bats stopped, turning their heads. Many of them started taking off. "They should all be heading toward my location now."

"It's not getting all of them," Dick said, frowning. There were a few still hanging around.

"You'll have to take care of them the old-fashioned way or let the formula wear off on its own. I'll wait here to make sure I can catch the ones heading toward me properly."

Damian, standing next to Jason, suddenly sniffed. "Are you wearing cologne?"

"Maybe? Doesn't everybody?"

"You know bats are sensitive to smell, right?"

"...I may have noticed."

As if on cue, a Man-Bat suddenly swept down. Dick saw Barbara aim her gun but as she pulled the trigger, nothing happened. No ammo. The Man-Bat succeeded, picking up Jason—but Damian reacted in time, hopping onto the Man-Bat's back.

Damian kicked at the legs of the Man-Bat—eventually getting him to let go of Jason. Jason landed easily enough.

"Hey! Get ready!" Jason called out, as he aimed the gun. He fired, just as Damian shot his grappling gun. As the Man-Bat was shot, the wing suddenly jerked back, knocking the grappling line out of Damian's hands.

"Uh oh," Barbara said. She rushed forward, catching her second naked man. Dick waited for Damian to make his safe landing, like he had done a thousand times before at more dangerous heights. As he watched, he realized a second too late that something was wrong.

Damian landed ungracefully, eventually rolling onto his side.

"Shit," Jason cursed, when Damian didn't get up.

Dick's stomach lurched. He immediately started forward but someone rushed past him. Dick stopped, frozen, as he watched Bruce go. Bruce knelt down to check on him and it wasn't until Jason moved forward that Dick regained the sense to move.

His heart raced with every step but he was instantly relieved when Damian sat up.

"Are you alright?" Bruce asked. Damian shook his head.

"Landed on the same shoulder he hit me with. Hurts like hell."

Bruce checked it. Damian winced as his father tested his arm. "Probably just a strain. Could be torn, we'll have it checked at the Cave."

"For what it's worth, you saved my ass," Jason said.

"Great," Damian said sarcastically.

"I'm also never going to wear this cologne again so I'll probably save a lot of money."

"Stop talking."

Dick didn't know what to do. He had been terrified, in that moment, worried that the injury might have been serious. But with people standing around, he was afraid he would say too much. Reveal too much. Grimacing a little, he settled on, "I'm glad you're okay."

Damian looked at him, a look of understanding passing between them. When Damian's gaze lowered, his body looking a bit more sluggish, Dick knew that Damian was having the same concerns—that there were too many people around.

"Thanks," was all he said.

* * *

Dick didn't need to make up an excuse to visit Wayne Manor. He easily walked in, heading upstairs to Damian's room. Damian glanced at him as he entered the room. Alfred the cat was laying on the bed next to him, eyeing Dick with the same pissed-off look he always had on his feline face. Dick shut the door behind him, crossing the room and taking the chair that was already sitting by Damian's bed.

"How are you feeling?"

" _Tt_. Bored," Damian said. He idly petted Alfred. "It's nothing serious. But considering Father's tendencies to aggravate his injuries by being impatient, Pennyworth has pretty much placed me on lockdown. He barely lets me leave my room. I understand not letting me on patrol but this is getting ridiculous. It's just a shoulder tear."

"Eh. At least you get some time off." Dick's eyes followed the sling. "But does it hurt?"

"Sometimes. I can ignore the ache. But if I move it too much, it stings, which is bothersome. It'll heal on its own."

"What's that?" Dick said, eyeing the bouquet sitting behind Damian. Damian looked back at it, seeming to have forgotten.

"Oh, apparently it's a get-well and thank-you present from Todd—but considering the note is in Gordon's handwriting, I'm just going to assume it's from her. She also sent this but it's probably going to go to Titus." Damian held up a tiny stuffed bear. Dick felt too far away so he sat on the bed next to him. The shift in the mattress startled Alfred, who took off and went to hide under the bed. Dick took the stuffed bear, looking down at it.

He hadn't brought anything.

"I hardly know the reason why. The fall wasn't so terrible. I should recover soon."

"She cares about you," Dick said, shrugging. He looked down at the bear, its arms reaching for him as he squeezed its middle. He glanced over at Damian, who was watching him carefully. "What?"

"I don't know," Damian said, quietly. He looked at him. "You're acting kind of odd."

That wasn't a comment that Dick received often. Usually he was better at disguising his feelings. But in truth, he felt sullen, his body heavy. Dick frowned a little, wondering if he should say it.

"I'll be okay, really," Damian said.

"I know," Dick said quickly, his eyebrows furrowing. "It's just, in that moment, I didn't know what happened. I wasn't sure if it was bad or not. And when I tried to go to you—"

"I see," Damian said, lowering his gaze.

"He needs to know. Not just for his sake. I don't want to keep worrying about it. I don't want it to be a secret."

"I'll tell him," Damian said. Dick looked at him.

"You _have_ to," Dick said. "I know how you are. I know you like to keep things in, that people make you uncomfortable. But this is important."

"I know, I know," Damian said. He reached over, taking the bear back. "I'll tell him tonight." He set the bear back down next to the flowers, looked at Dick. His face fell when he saw Dick's expression. "Do you not believe me?"

Dick didn't know what to say. They hadn't even been on a real date yet. There were flowers on his bedside table but they weren't his. All they had was this little thing that they had created that no one else knew about.

"Should I call him up here?" Damian asked, looking at Dick oddly.

Even if they told everyone, it couldn't be certain that it'd be worth it. Worth the attention it received, worth the trouble, worth the negativity. He wasn't sure how Damian felt. Wasn't sure if he was just in it for the thrill or if it was more genuine, more deeper, than that.

Damian looked a little lost. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

Maybe everything was going to fall apart, like all of the other relationships that Dick had screwed up. But each one of those had been because Dick had been afraid to speak up, afraid to let people in. And even though it had only been a few weeks, they had been together for so much longer than that. Dick's feelings were deeper than that.

There weren't any words that could be placed on it, or an official timestamp for when they started, or poetry and flowers and dates to supplement it, but some force of its own had drawn Dick to Damian—before there were touches and words to confirm it, to validate it. He knew it was real.

"I don't know what you want," Damian said.

"I love you," Dick blurted out.

Damian looked at him. Dick kissed him quickly.

" _Ah_ ," Damian said suddenly, pulling back, wincing.

"Sorry," Dick said, realizing he had put his hands on Damian's shoulders—both of them, including the bad one.

They both looked down, an awkward tension between them. Dick glanced at Damian as he rubbed his shoulder, his heart racing all the while.

"I know this isn't exactly good timing but I still wish you'd say something."

Damian's face flushed slightly. "Don't put me on the spot like that."

"But I mean, you feel the same way, right? Even if you can't say it—"Dick stopped himself. He was starting to sound desperate. Damian regarded him for a moment, breathed out a little, almost like a sigh, and kissed him softly.

It was nice, but it didn't feel like enough.

* * *

The next day, Bruce had called Dick over to the Cave.

It had been a nerve wracking drive out there. Bruce didn't give any hint of what he wanted to talk about but Damian had promised that he would talk to Bruce the night before, and Dick couldn't help but wonder if that was the reason for him being summoned.

He hadn't talked to Damian since that evening so he wasn't sure if Bruce would be accepting or angry. When Dick finally got to the Cave, Bruce was working on the computer, updating some files. Bruce didn't seem erred by his presence—but Bruce was also fantastic at hiding his feelings, so there was no way of knowing for sure.

Dick felt the need to address it right away. He was too nervous. "Did you talk to Damian last night?"

"Yes," Bruce said, eyes focused on the computer.

"About him and I?" Dick had to clarify.

"I don't want to focus on that. I'd rather focus on the case we were working on," Bruce said.

Dick should have known this would be how Bruce would react—and for some reason, he had never predicted it. It was typical of Bruce to be so nonchalant but it still shocked him. When Bruce looked at him expectantly, Dick snapped out of his stupor.

"Is that fine?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah," Dick breathed. He felt so relieved. "Yeah, of course."

So they went over their mission details, discussing the intel they had gathered and their suspects. It felt so normal, like nothing had ever happened. There were points where Dick felt awkward—Bruce didn't bring it up, didn't talk about Damian any differently when he was mentioned. It felt almost like he was ignoring the subject.

At least, Dick thought, Bruce didn't seem angry. But his silence on the subject did not ease his anxiety.

"Hey, things aren't going to be weird between us now, right?" Dick said suddenly.

Bruce frowned a little. "I'm not sure if I understand what you're talking about."

Dick sighed a little. He was worried he might be pushing Bruce too far by talking about it but after so much time spent hiding, he needed to be honest. He needed to get his fears off of his chest. "I don't know. I just feel like there's some tension here. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. I can't really read you right now."

Bruce continued to concentrate on organizing a file he had, but his brow seemed to furrow. "Just say what's on your mind. You don't usually hold back."

Dick shrugged a little awkwardly. It felt weird _finally_ being able to say it. "Well, about me and Damian."

"Oh, that," Bruce said, continuing his work. He seemed to concentrate on it more—perhaps trying to block out his thoughts, Dick guessed. "No, it's fine. I had a suspicion for awhile. You've been around the Manor a lot lately and I even caught some footage of you two patrolling together. After Damian said that he had spent the night at your house, my suspicions were pretty much sealed. I decided to stay out or it. Damian's an adult now. I can't tell him what to do any more than I could tell _you_ what to do at his age."

Dick relaxed. Bruce was being surprisingly calm about it. Dick found himself smiling a little. "So you're not angry?"

"As long as it doesn't interfere with our casework then no, it shouldn't be an issue. Perhaps if it was anyone but you, I would be concerned."

Dick was taken aback—the words humbled him. "Really?"

"Yes. I know you won't let anything bad happen to him. You're capable and I've known you longer than a lot of people. You were there for him for most of your life and you are family. So, no, it's not an issue."

"I thought those would be the reasons why you _wouldn't_ approve."

"No," Bruce said. He paused for a moment, seeming to be lost in thought, but he just went back to his work.

"How long did you know?"

At that, Bruce paused again. The same look returning to him. He seemed troubled by Dick's words. "I mean, I assumed it started after Darkseid. When I was gone, lost in the timeline. I didn't think of _exactly_ when."

 _After Darkseid_. When Dick and Damian had just teamed up as the new Batman and Robin, all those years ago. When Damian was just a kid. At that, Dick instantly recoiled. That was the _last_ thing he wanted Bruce to think. He immediately moved to Bruce's side.

"Bruce, I don't _ever_ want you to think that. I didn't even think of Damian that way until a few months ago."

At that, Bruce seemed perplexed. He looked at Dick strangely. "But you two were already working together."

"Yeah, but that's just _working_ together." Dick's face scrunched up, the thought of it disturbing him. If Bruce really believed that, why didn't he say something? That bothered him more than anything.

"What?" Bruce said, confused. "Isn't that what we're talking about, is you two working together?"

Suddenly it all made sense.

They weren't talking about the same thing.

A sinking feeling washed over Dick. Damian hadn't told him.

"Dick, is there something you're trying to tell me?" Bruce said, frowning.

Dick closed his eyes for a moment. He considered lying or diverting the topic, as always. But the truth was that he was done keeping secrets. He shifted in place, resolving to face the consequences.

"Damian and I are seeing other," he confessed.

"What?" Bruce said, looking at him with a lost expression.

Dick didn't what else to say. _We're dating. We're sleeping with each other. I told him I loved him_. He could feel Bruce's eyes scrutinizing him, no doubt trying to imagine how something this big had slipped past him.

Bruce frowned. "For how long?"

Dick didn't like the edge in his voice. "Awhile."

"How long is _awhile_? Over a week?" Dick didn't react. "A month?"

The shame was beginning to settle in. Dick hung his head a little, feeling no better than a child being scolded. He felt like a boy again, having to confess to Bruce that he broke the chandelier by climbing on it, except worse because this wasn't an accident. This was planned. And all those years of telling Bruce not to keep things in, not to hold secrets from his comrades, suddenly felt like a big joke. Dick felt like the greatest hypocrite of them all.

"Over a month," Bruce decided, when Dick stood there in silence. Bruce shook his head to himself, making a subtle, unhappy noise under his breath. He grabbed his things and got up. "We'll talk about this another time."

"Not now?" Dick said, looking at him hopelessly.

"Trust me, Dick, you don't want to hear what I have to say right now."

* * *

Dick felt like a raincloud had started following him around, ever since his talk with Bruce. There were still many unspoken words between them. Dick hadn't talked to Damian about the conversation—but like Bruce, Dick just wasn't sure if he was ready for that conversation yet.

He felt a sea of emotions, twisting and turning. Angry but saddened. In love but heartbroken. Part of him blamed himself. He should have waited, he shouldn't have waited. He should have talked to Bruce properly, he shouldn't have said anything at all.

He rationalized that he couldn't keep blaming himself but whenever he stopped, all he could do was blame Damian instead. Damian, for not speaking up, even though he promised. Damian, for not communicating with him, and letting Dick bury himself. He didn't want to blame Damian but his gut needed someone to take responsibility.

Dick was afraid to step anywhere near the Wayne Estates so he eventually settled on calling Damian. It wasn't the way he wanted to do this, but he was never good at texting people, and seeing Damian face to face didn't seem to be an option.

"Hey," Damian said, and he didn't seem surprised to hear from him.

"Hi," Dick said.

A moment of silence passed, awkward and tense, without so much as static or breathing to fill the cessation.

"I talked to Bruce," Dick said.

"I know," Damian said. He added, almost grumbling, "He's been in a pissy mood ever since."

Dick sighed heavily, staring around his room. Construction was still going on—one of his bedroom walls had been punctured, leaving an ugly hole. He tore his gaze away from it, stared at the ceiling instead. His chest felt heavy, he was upset, but it wasn't Bruce he was worried about.

"I don't understand," Dick said, brow furrowing. "Why didn't you tell him? You said you were going to."

"Because I knew how he'd react," Damian said.

"So?" Dick said.

" _So_ I didn't tell him," Damian said, as if it were obvious.

Dick wished he could throw his phone.

"Damian, you were supposed to tell him. You said you would. It's not about how he's going to react. It's not about what's _convenient_. It's about being _honest_." Dick could feel his frustrations rising. His mind was lost, forgetting all about his adamance to not blame anyone for what happened.

"It wasn't the right time. You're not the one who lives here and works with him everyday. I promised you I would tell him while you were freaking out about it. You pushed me into it—"

"I seem to be pushing you into a lot of things."

"What's that supposed to be mean?"

"You still haven't told me that you want to be with me," Dick said. "I told you that I loved you and you couldn't even say it back."

"That's—"Damian started, but it stopped there. Dick waited a moment longer. Waited for Damian to say something, _anything_. But the other line was empty.

Dick hung up.

* * *

Dick tried not to stare at him.

But it was also kind of hard not to.

Dick didn't understand why Tim had invited Damian. He knew _why_ , of course, but after Tim confessed that Pennyworth had told him the news, he had to wonder why they weren't invited separately.

Damian's arm wasn't in a sling anymore, it seemed, but Dick was sure that it was still healing. He wanted to ask about it but he kept his mouth shut. They hadn't talked since their fight. The silence was thick and awkward as they waited inside of Tim's safehouse.

Finally, Dick looked up, and Damian had looked at the same time. They immediately broke eye contact but Dick knew they couldn't keep this up.

"Tim knows," Dick finally said.

"Knows what?" Damian said. It was weird to hear his voice after so long. Dick had gotten used to hearing it everyday.

"Well, Pennyworth told him what Bruce told _him_ —"

"Nevermind, I get it," Damian said, looking cross. "You don't suppose everyone else—"

"If I had to guess—"Dick started, grimacing, but he was interrupted when a red mask poked in between them. Dick just now heard the doors shut.

" _So_ …" Jason said, drawing out the syllable. And even with the hood on, Dick could just perfectly see that smug, _stupid_ smirk.

"Don't you dare say another word," Damian said, gritting his teeth.

"I heard from a little red birdy that you like _the D_ now."

"Goddamnit," Dick breathed, burying his face in his hand. Jason immediately erupted into laughter, not even bothering to block or dodge the punch Damian landed on his arm.

"Tell Drake that he can meet with me when he doesn't have his travelling circus with him," Damian said, storming off.

"Do you think the circus comment was directed at me or you?" Jason said. When he looked at Dick, Dick stood there with his arms crossed. "What?"

Tim finally entered through the front doors at that moment, looking back and forth between them. "Who pissed off Damian?"

Dick stared at him flatly.

Tim immediately turned to Jason, punching him in the arm—the same one Damian had hit. "You weren't supposed to say anything!"

Jason just started laughing again. Tim shook his head to himself, leading them through the second doors of the safehouse. He let them inside, grabbing the new equipment he wanted to hand out.

"I'm sorry but are we not going to address the elephant in the room?" Jason said.

"I think you've addressed enough," Dick said sharply, voice raised. His patience was lost.

"Hey, hey, hey," Jason said, stepping back a step. "I already got two punches. Besides, I'm just curious. This is all pretty—"

"Weird," Tim finished.

"What?" Dick and Jason said, both looking at him. Tim looked back and forth between them, realizing that neither of them were thinking the same thing.

"I mean… it's kind of weird. Damian. Dick. Together." Tim raised an eyebrow, his mask lifting with it. "Right?"

"Seriously, Tim?" Dick said. He gestured to Jason. "As if I'm not dealing with _enough_ right now."

" _I_ don't think it's weird," Jason said, nonchalant. He shrugged. "I never took you as walking the straight path anyways."

"Oh please," Tim said, rolling his head. "That's not the issue. It's…" Tim trailed off, realizing no one was on board with him. "Do I really have to say it? It's _Damian_. That's why it's weird."

"I _know_ , okay? I'm perfectly aware of what it looks like," Dick said, irritated. "I guess part of me was hoping you'd all discuss your judgments amongst yourselves, behind my back, since you've all been gossiping anyways."

"How are we supposed to keep quiet about it, Dick?" Tim said, incredulous. "You're dating your teammate—"

"As if you're one to talk. How many of those have _you_ dated?" Jason said. Tim didn't relent.

"The point is, it's Bruce's kid. It's weird."

"Yes. Bruce's kid," Jason cut in before Dick could say anything. "That he had after shacking up with an immortal global terrorist's daughter, the same woman who then _grew_ said kid in an artificial womb like a fucking houseplant, made several clones of, and then tried to have him killed."

"Where are you going with this?" Tim said incredulously, looking at Jason. "What is your point?"

"My point is that I'm standing in the room with two guys in bird outfits, working for a man who dresses in a black, leather animal costume so he can fight crime, and that the last time we were all together, I was getting swung around in the air by mutated Man-Bats. We are way past _weird_ right now," Jason said.

"Fine, yes. We're _weird_. But Dick is Bruce's ward. That's _too_ weird."

"Okay, first of all, can we stop pretending that Bruce adopted us as sons? He never wanted _sons_. He wanted orphans to _help_. My dad was a criminal who died in prison, and even though I'll admit that Bruce was a much better father figure, he's still not my _dad_." Jason paused for a moment, tilting his head. "Until he croaks, anyways. In which case, he was Daddy Dearest to me, and I deserve to inherit the batmobile."

"Do you really not consider us family?" Tim said, in a way that almost sounded sad.

"I consider you guys family in the same way that the military calls itself a brotherhood—brothers, but still willing to circle jerk with each other."

Tim looked at him, grossed out. The last person Dick expected to defend him was Jason, and even though there were parts of his speech that were flawed, he had to give him credit for speaking up.

"I still haven't forgiven you but… thanks," Dick said, slowly nodding.

"It's none of my business so I don't care. But if the lovebirds are safe and happy, I'm definitely not going to interfere," Jason said, shrugging. "Although, I am curious. He's a bottom, isn't he?"

"Not answering that."

"Ew. Okay, fine, it's not weird. But that doesn't mean I want to think about Damian having sex, okay?" Tim said, face scrunched up. "Can we not talk about this?"

"We're not talking about it. Period." Dick flashed Jason a warning look. Jason ignored him, looking at Tim.

"You're right. It's not weird, it's hilarious," Jason said lightheartedly. He elbowed Dick. "So, have you talked to Babs yet?"

* * *

"I just don't think it's a very good idea," Barbara said, flipping her ponytail back. Dick sighed a little—he knew that tone _way_ too well.

"Please, Barbara, I don't need you on my back too."

Their jog slowed to a stop so Barbara could refill her water bottle at the drinking fountain. When she was done, she stopped and looked at Dick with a wry expression. Dick rubbed his forehead.

"Just spit it out. Say what's on your mind." Not that she needed his permission.

"I'm only concerned because I _know_ you," she said, hands on her hips. She looked down for a moment, composing herself, before looking Dick in the eye. "Dick, for lack of a better phrase, you think with your penis."

"Wow," Dick said, eyes widening. "You… just went there."

"I'm just finding it hard to believe that your sudden interest in dating a teenaged teammate isn't part of some midlife crisis."

"What? _Midlife crisis_? Jesus, Babs, you and I are the same age. Give us some credit. We are _not_ that old," Dick said. Barbara wasn't laughing.

"Please tell me that what I'm saying is at least going through your head right now."

"Look, you don't think I've already thought this through? Those thoughts go through my head every damned day," Dick said, getting irritated. He had been especially touchy the last few days—and Barbara had promised that she just wanted a jogging buddy. "You think if I wanted to just hook up with someone, that's who I'd choose?"

"Of course I know you—wait, what do you mean hooked up, have you guys done it already?" Barbara said, looking at him incredulously. Dick was burying himself, he realized. To be fair, he wasn't expecting everyone to be so curious about his sex life—they always accepted it in the past, with maybe a few eye-rolls here and there, but nothing like _this_. In a hushed voice, she said, " _How_ do you do it? Because you _never_ let me do butt stuff to you."

"Holy shit, Babs, we're in _public_ —"

" _Pfft_. Who cares? The closest person to us is that old man on the bench who looks like he's nodding off," Barbara said, waving it off. Still, Dick's face flushed with embarrassment. Barbara looked at him for a moment, observing. In a calmer voice, she said, "But you're right. You have thought this through. You must really like him."

"Well, it doesn't even matter. It's pretty much ruined, so…"

"What do you mean?" Barbara said, and even though she had spent their entire run lecturing to him, she now looked concerned.

"We're not really talking right now," Dick said, shrugging. Barbara looked at him, frowning. Dick almost missed the yelling. He sighed heavily and resumed walking—Barbara kept close to him.

"So, what, did you guys get in a fight?"

"No one was supposed to know—not yet, anyways. Damian said he was going to talk to Bruce, to tell him the truth. I opened my big mouth around Bruce, talking about the relationship, without realizing that Damian hadn't told him yet," Dick said. He shook his head to himself. He had to stop blaming himself. "But Damian promised he was going to say something. I really thought that he meant it."

At that, Barbara laughed. Dick stared at her strangely. "You seriously expected it to go well? Damian and Bruce are probably the most verbally and emotionally stunted people that we know. Did you seriously imagine that conversation was going to be peachy, even if it _did_ happen?"

"I don't understand where you're going with this. Are you saying I shouldn't have expected Damian to say anything? It's _his_ dad."

"Yes, you're right. Ideally, he should and would have said something. But people like you and Alfred have _always_ played translator. I don't understand Bruce at all—if you weren't there to explain him to me in those early days of us working together, I would probably be sitting around, bored every night." Barbara looked at him, smiling. "That's what you do best, Dick. You understand people—even the people who can't understand themselves."

Barbara said it so confidently, but Dick was unsure. Sometimes it seemed that he didn't understand Damian at all. Still, as they walked, he thought over her words.

They passed by a community garden. Barbara suddenly stopped, crouching down so she was at eye-level with a plant, practically sticking her face in the leaves. Dick looked around but no one seemed to take notice of his crazy ginger friend who was suddenly whispering to tomatoes.

"Oh my," he caught her saying. "You are _so_ tall."

"Barbara, leave that poor plant alone," Dick said. "It doesn't need your sweet talking."

"I'm helping it grow, jerk," she said, lightly swatting his knee. "You're supposed to talk to plants."

"That sounds like an old wives' tale."

"It's true," Barbara said, looking at him smugly. "It's been studied. Plants that are spoken to grow better than plants that aren't—though the reasons are disputed. Some say it's carbon dioxide from our breaths, others say it's the vibrations in the air from the sound. There's even a theory that says it's because of positive energy, but I say that one _is_ a load of crap. I used to talk shit to my plants when they were dying and they'd still grow back."

Dick grinned a little. "Maybe you scared them more than death."

" _Jerk_ ," she repeated, swatting him a little harder. She went back to whispering to the plants, who stood still in response. Dick watched and wondered if they really could feel her words.

* * *

"I see him. He just entered the building," Dick said, mask zoomed in on the ground below. He watched as his target disappeared inside.

"Too many people inside. We'll wait for him to come back out, then we'll track him until he's alone," Bruce said, crouched next to him. He was watching intently too.

They waited, the rooftops winds whistling. Bruce made a noise and Dick instantly turned to him.

"Huh?"

"I was just clearing my throat."

"Oh."

They waited in silence, watching. They couldn't just abandon all of their cases because of their recent drama. They had to work together. If Dick had to be honest, he had worked under Bruce in more unsteady situations—but this was quickly becoming one of the most awkward missions he had gone on with Bruce.

"I haven't see you in awhile," Bruce said, finally breaking the silence. Dick was startled—Bruce _never_ broke the ice. He had something he wanted to say, but he wasn't going to say it outright. Dick rubbed the back of his neck, feeling nervous.

"Oh. Yeah. I wasn't sure if you wanted me around."

"Robin apologized."

"He did?" Dick said. This was news to him. Bruce nodded stiffly.

"I hope this… _separation_ , doesn't have anything to do with me," Bruce said. And even though his voice is as serious as always, Dick can sense the concern in there.

"No, it wasn't you. We were having some problems. Even before you," Dick admitted, gaze lowering. The sinking feeling returned to him.

"I see," Bruce said. Dick wondered if that was the end of that. But Bruce shifted in place, almost uncomfortably. Dick looked at him, questioning. "It seems like you're having some miscommunication errors."

"We had a lot of those."

"No, I meant specifically. Pertaining to this situation," Bruce said a little more firmly. "Robin did talk to me that night and we did talk about you and him. But obviously, something wasn't communicated properly. I thought I understood what he was trying to tell me but I assumed too much—or too little, perhaps."

Dick tried to figure out what Bruce was trying to tell him. He had to go back, remembering what he knew about Bruce. All of his memories and experiences of working with him. "So he tried to tell you and you didn't listen."

"I didn't," Bruce confessed. "I assumed he meant that you two were starting to work together—not that you were..." Bruce, uncharacteristically, trailed off. He shifted uncomfortably again. He continued, in the simplest words possible, "I brushed him off and he gave up."

"Oh," Dick said. So Damian did try to tell Bruce—that explained why Bruce had said that he and Damian already talked. It didn't explain, however, the way Damian had acted on the phone. Damian never said that he had tried—he even seemed to imply otherwise. He acted defensively.

Dick stopped, wondering.

He tried the method he did with Bruce. Tried to remember what he knew about Damian.

"Are you still angry?" Dick asked Bruce.

"I was, for awhile. But then I stopped and thought about what I had already said to you—that if it was anyone but you, I would be concerned. And I realized that when I said that, I had meant it," Bruce said. He stopped and looked at Dick. "I still mean it."

* * *

Dick knocked loudly on the front door of Wayne Manor. He waited, hands shoved in his pockets, until he heard the front door click open. Pennyworth saw him, opening his mouth. Dick cut him off.

"I'm here to see Damian. And yes, I know what you're thinking, and I'm sorry for all of those awkward visits in the past. And I'm sorry that we didn't tell you and kept it a secret from everyone—"

"Actually," Alfred said, cutting him off from his rambling. "I was going to tell you to come in and that if you need me, I will be outside, working in the gardens."

Dick watched Alfred as he walked out. The butler was still wearing his dress shoes and white gloves, none of his gardening gear. Dick slowly shook his head in amazement—it was the subtle things that Alfred did that made him the best.

Dick hurried up the steps to Damian's room. When he opened the door, he wasn't there.

Dick's shoulders slumped. In retrospect, he should have called.

"What are you doing?"

Dick stopped and turned around. Down the hallway was Damian and Titus. Titus had a half-demolished teddy bear in his mouth.

"I was looking for you," Dick said. Damian looked at him carefully before approaching him. As he padded down the hall towards him, Dick continued to ramble, all of the words spilling out, "I get it. You tried to tell him but you couldn't. You didn't want me to know that you messed up. You would have rather had me angry at you than know—"

Damian pushed on his shoulders, backing him into the open doorway. He pushed the door behind him with his foot, hands never leaving Dick. Dick missed feeling his hands on him. His eyes instantly lowered as Damian leaned his face in close.

"It wasn't right of me. But you're still here," Damian said, words vague and hushed against his lips, but Dick understood what he meant to say. Damian kissed him.

Dick knew that Damian wasn't going to apologize outright. He knew that this wasn't going to be the end of their problems. But he could feel it—feel that Damian's feelings were true, even if he didn't know how to say it. That things were never easy in their worlds, including this.

Romance was easy.

But coming back to that manor had not been easy. Forgiving had not been easy. Embracing and kissing each other, despite everything, had not been easy.

Loving had not been easy.

But Dick could still do it. And he knew Damian could too.

He felt Damian's lips on his, soft and warm. Inviting. Felt fingers brushing through his hair, pulling him in deeper. Drawing him in, so close, in a way that Dick could feel his desire through his touch. In a way that Dick could not deny that he was _wanted_.

Dick kissed him slowly, deeply, in return. A rush went through him, a sort of relief, emotions that he thought had been numbed suddenly resurfaced, blooming back to life. Damian drew him further into the room, step by step, until they're pushed backwards towards the bed. Dick grabbed hold of him as they both fell onto the sheets, the plush mattress sinking underneath them.

The sheets had been warmed by the sunlight that streamed through the open windows. The bed felt inviting, comforting. They laid side by side, exchanging kisses, and Dick was almost surprised how easy it was to not get carried away, to not kiss Damian with any sense of urgency or desperation even though it had been so long. Surprised that Damian was kissing him so slowly, languidly, as if savoring the moment.

And perhaps that's what it was, because for the first time, Dick didn't feel like it had to be rushed. He didn't feel the fear of being interrupted or discovered, which normally made him latch on tight and quick.

He felt Damian suck on his bottom lip and Dick moaned softly against him, the wordless sound breaking the silence between them. Dick brushed his fingers against Damian's cheek, travelling to cradle the back of his head, pulling him in deeper.

Damian angled his head, licking against his lips, until they parted, their tongues intermingling, their breaths exchanged. Dick felt his breath hitch slightly, enjoying the feeling of Damian's tongue against his own.

From there, his memory took over, remembering what Damian liked, what made him gasp. Nipping on his bottom lip, sucking on his tongue, running his hands over his body. He listened to the subtle noises—his hitched breaths, the moans caught in the back of his throat, and each one egged him on further. He wanted to hear it all. So he tasted him more, touched him more, the passion of it all building up to a tension between them.

Damian made the first move, hands slipping beneath the hem of Dick's shirt, touching his heated skin. Dick shuddered slightly at the touch, easily falling onto his back as Damian leaned over him, allowed Damian to tug the shirt up over his head.

Dick's arms wrapped around Damian, pulling him in close, their mouths meeting again, heatedly this time. Damian sat up to pull off his shirt, and Dick's eyes drank in the sight of his chiselled form, hands instantly moving in to touch over the skin almost greedily. He missed this, missed him, and he hadn't been sure during all the arguments and all the silences if he would ever be able to see him like this again. He immediately ducked down, kissing and tasting his skin, enjoying the way Damian shivered beneath the touch.

Dick could feel the anticipation in the air. It took a lot of his self control to not rip off all of their clothes, but he genuinely did want to ease into it, and even Damian, who was normally the impatient one, seemed to be taking his time. Each kiss was languid, each touch almost tentative. Like it was their first time doing this.

Damian leaned back in, burying his face in the crook of Dick's neck, sucking on the sensitive skin, their warm bodies pressed against each other. Dick reached between their bodies, pressing between Damian's legs through his clothing. Damian sucked hard on Dick's skin in response, eliciting a groan.

Damian pulled back, hands on Dick's waist, unbuckling his belt. Dick helped him, undoing the button and zipper, slipping the rest of his clothing past his hips. He immediately pulled Damian's waistband, wanting to do the same, but Damian took it off himself. Once he was naked, Dick's eyelids lowered, turned on by the sight. He tugged on Damian's hips, pulling him on top of him, their flushed bodies pressed close. He immediately wrapped an arm around Damian's middle, keeping him close. He felt the heat between them, their groins pressed against each other. Dick groaned when he felt Damian deliberately roll his hips.

It didn't take much more than that to spark Dick's arousal. He was already hard, excited enough to just to be back in Damian's bed, to have him in his arms, naked and touching and tasting.

Damian quickly caught onto this fact, grinding against him again, their erections meeting. Dick's brow furrowed, his pleasure spiking at the friction, the heat rising to his skin, desire increasing. His hand travelled down the small of Damian's back, reaching to grab his ass firmly.

He wanted him. Bad.

And he knew that Damian knew that too, by the way Damian pulled back to look into his eyes darkly every time they moved against each other. He knew by the way Damian kissed him on his neck, his ear, sucking just the way Dick liked—but purposefully doing it lightly, barely, almost teasingly.

Dick sucked on his fingers, getting them wet. He reached around, felt Damian still in anticipation. Dick pushed two of his fingers in.

The fingers slipped in, and Dick felt a surge of lust when he felt Damian, hot and tight around his fingers. He watched with fixated fascination as Damian's expression shifted the further he penetrated him—pushing down to the knuckle, Damian's face reddening, eyes falling half lidded, lips parting subtly as a breath escaped him. Dick could feel his erection straining, Damian's reactions turning him on.

He felt Damian move and kept his fingers still inside of him. Damian reached for his drawer, hand fumbling in the drawer to grab the bottle of lubricant that hid inside.

Dick watched, the bottle uncapping with a soft noise, as Damian poured the lube on their erections. Dick flinched at the cool sensation but it quickly warmed beneath Damian's hand as he stroked them, cocks pressed together, hand sliding with ease. Dick's head fell back, openly moaning, wondering briefly why they didn't do this more.

Behind Damian's back, Dick fumbled with the bottle. Fingers slick, he pushed back into Damian, easier now, digits thrusting in. Damian's eyes fluttered, breath becoming more ragged, his hand still moving—he looked lost between the dual pleasures, and it only fuelled Dick's desire. He was already imagining what it was going to feel like when he finally slid inside.

Dick caught the sudden, subtle clench of Damian's jaw, an action he instantly recognized.

"Don't hold back," Dick said. Damian glanced at him, just as his hand slipped upwards, stroking them. Dick breathed. It felt too good. He locked eyes with Damian, saw the same look of ecstasy reflecting back at him, but Damian was nearly silent in contrast. "Don't hold back, I want to hear you."

Dick prodded with his fingers, sliding into him, the lube making a sound that was almost perverse. Dick could feel his heart racing faster, a rush going through him, as he watched Damian flinch, his body falling slightly forward as Dick thrusted in with fingers. Dick could hear Damian a little more clearly now, a little more loudly, his breaths shaky.

"Does it feel good?" Dick whispered, voice heady.

Damian made a small noise, almost like a scoff but a bit too stilted, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a smirk but a bit too awkward. It was difficult for Dick to take Damian's nonchalance seriously when his eyes were half-lidded and his face flushed. He still couldn't say it. Dick slipped a third finger in and Damian's hand paused momentarily, his grip weakening. Dick groaned a little as he penetrated Damian, felt him stretching to accommodate his fingers—Damian felt so tight. Damian clenched his jaw a little, still refraining from making a sound.

Dick couldn't help but laugh a little. "Still waiting," he murmured.

Damian shook his head a little in disbelief. He muttered darkly, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes, "Still sadistic."

Dick removed his hand as Damian repositioned. Damian grabbed the lube, applying it to Dick's cock once again before lining himself up with Dick's body. Dick held his breath in anticipation.

Dick clenched his jaw, nearly biting his lip, as Damian eased himself onto his erection. Dick felt the tip of his member pushing into him, encased in heat. He groaned a little, his breath unsteady. It had been too long.

Damian laid himself over Dick's body and Dick watched, hypnotized. His eyes followed the curve of Damian's long back, seeming almost feline in the way it stretched. Damian kissed his skin all the while, lips dragging almost affectionately over his chest, his collarbone, his throat… his hands ran up Dick's sides, running over the contours of Dick's body, travelling up his arms until their hands touched. Dick quickly held on, the fingers interlacing, and Damian finally moved his hips, sinking down the rest of the way, their bodies meeting.

They moaned together, their voices mixing into almost a sound of their own. Dick felt the slow, steady drag of his cock inside of Damian—felt him pulling to the tip before sinking back down fully. His eyes fluttered shut, drowning in the feeling of his cock sinking into heat. In the darkness beneath his lids, he listened. Listened to the sounds of their bodies moving. Listened to the sounds of their breathing. Listened to the small sounds, _their_ sounds, like grunts and moans as Damian sunk down all the way—taking Dick's cock to the base.

There was a pause, a shudder going through them both. Damian was hot, tight. Dick wanted nothing more than to push up into him, to fuck him, but he stilled himself. Waiting, letting their bodies adjust. He let Damian move of his own accord. Let him slowly ride him.

He felt the slow drag of his cock, pulling then sinking back in. Over and over. Heard the heightened, shallow breaths, and it made Dick groan with arousal. He felt the mattress around him shift, felt Damian readjusting.

Dick reopened his eyes, nearly melting at the sight. He would forget every so often. Forget how muscular and compact and gorgeous Damian was, forget how turned on it made him to be inside of someone so strong. Damian was on top of him and Dick's hands were reaching to touch him, finally settling on Damian's thighs, rubbing the skin. He carefully took in every muscle, every contour of Damian's bronzed body, on display in front of him. Watched, with fixation, his hard and darkened erection standing between his legs.

It was lewd, seeing Damian's pleasure like this. Turned on and hard just from stroking and lowering himself on Dick's cock. Dick's eyes travelled upwards. He saw the pleasure in Damian's eyes, the hazy, intense look.

He watched Damian's expression shift as he picked himself up and lowered himself down. A moan slipped from Dick's mouth—the sensation was everything, but the heightened element of seeing Damian, young and powerful, with strong arms to steady his body, fuck himself was pure ecstasy.

He felt Damian tense, clenching around him, as Dick ran his hands up Damian's thighs again, closer to the inner, more sensitive parts of his skin. The reaction raised his excitement. Dick wished he could suck on every inch of Damian's skin, to produce more reactions like that.

"You feel so good."

Dick thought he imagined the whisper at first—the words certainly didn't escape from his mouth, or in his voice. He looked up at Damian, wondering if he'd confirm it. Wondering if he'd repeat it.

Damian leaned down, quick enough to kiss him softly—just a slow, gentle drag of their lips brushing against each other.

"You fuck me so good."

Heat rushed through Dick's body at once.

Damian _never_ talked like that. He barely made noise at all, if he could help it.

Dick was so turned on. He stirred in place, arching up to push into Damian, their bodies meeting, a light gasp escaping them both.

"Keep talking," he said, on the verge of begging. He was afraid he was expecting too much, asking too much. But Damian just looked into his eyes, the gaze alone intoxicating.

"You always treat me so good," he murmured, so softly he hardly spoke at all, but Dick drank in every word, each spoken breath drowning him. "You make me lose my self-control."

 _Fuck_.

Dick wanted more.

He ran his hands up Damian's thighs, feeling his skin, finally settling onto Damian's hips. He held down, hands digging into his hipbones, and pushed up. Damian was forced forward a bit, not expecting the action, but his mouth still fell in a moan.

Damian used his arms to balance himself, lifting his hips up just enough to give Dick the space to push up into him. He held Damian's hips, rolling into him repeatedly in long, complete thrusts.

"That's good. You're so good," Damian said, kissing him. Dick wanted to be good. "I could taste you all day."

The more Damian spoke, the more hushed Dick felt. He wanted to listen to every word. But the slide of his cock, slipping into Damian over and over, was start to feel too good. The words began to transform into sounds—moans and breaths and sighs, their voices tangling together in pleasure and wanting.

Their bodies met with a noise, skin against skin. Dick's entire body felt heated, his heart racing, pleasure tremoring through his body. The speed of his movements began to race with the adrenaline going through his veins. He was getting too excited, too turned on. His hands were digging painfully into Damian's skin, the edge of his voice was sounding akin to a growl. And seeing Damian taking his cock, his own arousal hard and stiff between his legs, was turning him on.

He wanted to turn them over, to lay between Damian's legs and fuck him into the mattress. Harder. Deeper. But Damian suddenly placed his hands on Dick's shoulders.

"Wait," Damian whispered, in a tone so gentle that it made Dick feel weak. Commanding him with a single word. He listened, hips stilling, even though he wanted nothing more than to keep thrusting up into him. Dick groaned softly, feeling his cock twitch inside of Damian. He was aching for more.

Damian kissed him, sucking at his bottom lip. Dick's body was shaking, tremors of pleasure racing down his body, as he tried to control himself. Tried to slow down. Tried to wait.

Damian's mouth moved in an almost lovingly way, nipping and sucking on his bottom lip. Dick's erection remained settled inside of Damian, pulsing with anticipation. Wanting friction, movement, sweat. Damian sucked on Dick's throat and Dick groaned, wanting to arch up into Damian again, but he stopped.

"Good," Damian finally whispered into his ear. He sucked on the lobe, breath fanning against his sensitive skin. Dick closed his eyes, shuddering. He ran his hands up and down Damian's sides, just wanting to feel him. Wanting to feel his skin. "So good, _habibi_. Don't finish yet."

Dick felt drunk off of Damian's words, even the ones in a language that was not his own. And Damian gave him more, as he stroked himself with their bodies still connected, whispering in heated words that Dick never heard. The words escaping from the back of Damian's throat, not in a way that was harsh, but in an accent that was strong. Affirming.

Each word came undone in a stream, unfurling like characters on a scroll of paper. Going and going. And Dick didn't know but he _understood_.

Damian suddenly moaned, whatever praise he had on his tongue falling apart, the sound almost keening, and the wanton desire in the sound sent electricity down Dick's spine. Dick, as much as he enjoyed how well Damian was treating him, couldn't keep holding back. He sat up, sinking Damian lower onto his cock, both of them groaning in response. He held onto Damian's hips, adjusting him in his lap, thrusting up into him, forcing unfiltered noises from them both.

Damian held onto Dick's shoulders for balance. Dick stared down, watching Damian's hardened cock between their bodies. The new position allowed Dick to drive up into him, the built up tension releasing. Dick continued to fuck him, unrestrained and unhinged. The sounds of their sex increased, their voices mingling together. Damian leaned in close, kissing Dick the best he could, but it was difficult to maintain when their bodies were moving so briskly. Their kiss broke as Dick pushed in deep, forcing a cry out of Damian, a sound that sent heat throughout Dick's body.

Dick cursed a little under his breath. He reached between their bodies, grabbing Damian's cock. He felt the heat of it in his hand, felt it pulse. He began to stroke it, drowning in the loudest noises his partner has ever made. Dick almost didn't want to end.

"Do you like it?" Dick asked, because he never knew when to shut up.

Instead of a snide remark, Damian simply groaned out, honestly, "Yes."

"I want you to finish with me inside of you."

He was vaguely aware of the exertion of their actions. Dick could feel it in his lower back but he didn't slow down, not when he saw the emotion behind Damian's eyes, not when he could tell that Damian wa right at the edge. He stroked him, driving him further. Damian's eyes screwed shut, he cursed under his breath.

And then Dick felt it all at once—felt the tremors that ran through Damian, felt the the heat of Damian spilling into his hand, felt Damian clench hard around his cock which sent a surge of pleasure running through Dick's body as he fucked into him.

Dick stilled, even though he was so close. Dick could feel it—could feel the heat running through his body, so close to be satiated but still hungry for more. Dick can see the afterglow, the bliss of Damian's orgasm. It felt like it could be enough. But before Dick could pull out, Damian suddenly wrapped his arms tighter around Dick's neck and pulled him in, kissing him hard. Dick can feel himself pulse inside of Damian.

"Keep going," Damian said, voice heated, lips brushing against Dick's as he spoke. "I want you to finish inside of me now. I want you to come, _habibi_."

Dick groaned a bit. It wasn't going to take much, not if Damian kept talking to him like that.

"Stay inside of me. Fill me."

He was pushing in. It wasn't going to take much.

"I'm so close," Dick said almost desperately. Damian looked down at him, nodding.

"Then come for me."

It was almost a command. Shortly after the words fell from Damian's lips, Dick felt a heat rush through his groin. Dick was left moaning, hips stilling in place as he came.

The room felt strangely quiet without their voices to fill the space. Dick could only hear the sounds of their light breathing, slowly becoming more steady and controlled.

After they untangled, laying side by side, Dick had to wonder, "You said something to me. Like you were calling to me. It sounded familiar."

"I said a lot of things," Damian said simply.

"You know what I'm talking about. I'll just butcher the pronunciation if I try," Dick said not even wanting to attempt it. While the words could easily roll off of Damian's tongue, Dick would just sound clumsy and blocky in comparison. Dick could talk about anything and everything, but couldn't compare to Damian's eloquence.

" _Habibi_ ," Damian said, immediately knowing the word Dick wanted to know, despite how he had brushed him off.

"What does that mean?"

"Beloved."

Dick was taken aback. He never imagined Damian would use a term of endearment, in any language. "Why?"

"Because I love you," he said, eyes flickering up at him, speaking as if it were obvious. Dick froze in place, stunned. Before Dick could voice his surprise or say it in return, Damian kissed him again.

Damian finally rolled onto his back, head falling on a pillow. Dick was still looking at him in wonder. Damian shrugged a little, elaborating more casually, "It felt easier to say it when you couldn't understand me. It felt like I could say it while still keeping it a secret."

But even while Dick may not have known the word while Damian was saying it, he could still feel the emotion behind it. The affection, the love. Dick's eyes lowered a little, remembering the misunderstandings between them, and it felt so pointless.

"It was never a secret," Dick said. Damian looked at him for a moment, a shift of emotion in his eyes. He looked almost relieved.

"No," Damian agreed quietly. "It wasn't."

Dick suddenly noticed something behind Damian, over his shoulder. He lifted himself up, propping his elbow on the pillow for support.

"I thought it died," he said, spotting the white gardenia on Damian's bedside. Damian turned over, looking at it. He shrugged a little.

"It did. I replaced it."

Dick smiled, feeling a little smug. "I thought you said they were _oversentimental_."

"It smells nice," he said simply. He leaned over to smell it. Dick watched, the flower full of life, seeming to reach up to greet Damian—its clean, bright petals contrasting against Damian's sunkissed skin.

Dick took in the moment, the image seeming to burn a place in his mind, and he was silenced.


End file.
